#((The last one is not an exhaustive list but they are some of the most memorable))

[a-hell-of-a-lot-of-muses]

3. whose writing has impacted your writing style the most? (you can choose anyone! famous writer or not.)

4. which muse of yours is your all time favorite? if you stopped writing them: why?

5. is there a muse you really want to try? if yes: what’s stopping you?

12. what roleplay trends do you remember from the year you started tumblr rp? how did you feel about those trends?

Mun questions: Accepting!

((Honestly there isn't one writer who has influenced me. In fact, I would say that all of my rp partners have influenced me one way or the other, whether it's been to go more in depth with my muses, or write longer replies, etc.))

((I think my favourite, to this day remains Will. He's the easiest for me to write, and he's stuck around quite a long time. Even when I take breaks from the pokemon rpc/breaks from Will, he'll come back sooner or later and be stronger than before ;u;))

((Tbh the muses I really wanted to try are on their own separate side blog, and at this moment I do not have any that I want to test out on this blog.

I do have muses I want to bring back, but I don't have the time/energy to devote to them ;-;

Of course this will probably change when I hop back onto my otome game bullshit.))

((So some of the popular trends I can remember from like 2011-2012 were:

Magic anons - I used to find these amusing until people started to use them for fetish mining, or doing the absolute weirdest shit that became uncomfortable.

Crack rp blogs - I remember seeing rp blogs for meme characters (Shrek) being in either rp groups or on indie and the rp's that followed were nothing short of crack filled, and it was fantastic.

Tinychats - These were popular with Pokemon rp groups back in the day and some of them got absolutely wild. I remember the ones from Edge of Glory...

Crack anons - These are rarer to come across now a days, but these anons would be super silly and it would be fun to answer them in character.

Fandom rp groups - I remember when fandoms had closed rp groups before indie blogs became popular. Some of them were really fun, and I have good memories from them. Pokemon had a good chunk, but I was also in Bleach ones (and later a Bleach + Naruto one). Good times.

An add on to this: I miss the days when MFRP (Multi fandom rp groups) were all the rage on Tumblr. Now there's like, two. I had a blast in ones like Tranche de Vie, Citta Alveare, the early days of Isola and many, many more ;u; ))

[kira-akira]

What I Want You To Know About Long COVID

Well lads, I've been suffering from Long COVID for over a year now. My life is at a complete standstill. I'm 25 years old and I'm too sick to go back to school, I can't work, I had to move back in with my parents and I'm still stuck here.

Here are just a few things I wish people knew about Long COVID, including things I didn't know myself until I got it.

COVID destroys your immune system. Yes, even if you don't have Long COVID. Are you getting sick more often now? When you get sick, does it last longer? There are many studies showing that COVID causes t cell depletion, even in mild COVID cases! T cells are how your body remembers how to fight off infections you've had before so losing those cells? Bad news.

Your initial infection can be mild and you can still get Long COVID. Right from Yale Medicine, "Most people with Long COVID had mild acute COVID." (This is also a good link for a basic Long COVID overview).

There can be a gap of time between when you "get better" from the initial COVID infection to the onset of Long COVID symptoms. Some people get sick with an initial COVID infection and never get better. Some get better and then weeks or months later start developing Long COVID symptoms. Long COVID symptoms can even fluctuate over time, can go away for months and then suddenly come back.

So many people have Long COVID and don't realize it. Do you feel more tired lately but no matter how much you sleep, nothing helps? Is it harder to concentrate at work or school? Can you just not think like you used to? You could have Long COVID and not even know it. Even mild post-COVID symptoms are still Long COVID.

COVID can do anything to your body. Long COVID has over 200 recognized symptoms and can affect basically any part or system of your body. There is no one mechanism or cause of Long COVID which unfortunately also means there's no one cure either.

The effects of COVID are cumulative. Each COVID reinfection increases your chances of developing Long COVID. COVID is also affecting your body in other ways, yes, even if you're otherwise young and healthy! "Repeat COVID-19 infections increase risk of organ failure, death".

Once you have Long COVID, repeat COVID infections will make your symptoms worse. "80% [of Long COVID patients] saw their symptoms worsen [from reinfection]. In 60% of people who were in recovery or remission from Long COVID, reinfection caused a recurrence of Long COVID."

There is a lot more I want to say about Long COVID but I want to keep this post at least somewhat manageable to read. Like how when COVID is contracted during pregnancy, those COVID-exposed fetuses have a 6.3-fold increased risk of motor developmental delays, or that another study found 50% of babies exposed to COVID in utero had developmental delays.

You need to keep caring about COVID, for others around you and also for yourself even if you're "healthy". Everyone is at risk. And don't forget 40-60% of COVID infections are asymptomatic, which is why masking even if you feel fine is crucial. The only way right now to not get Long COVID is to not get COVID in the first place. It's not too late, if you've stopped masking it's never too late to start again! I know it's easy to get distracted by things in your life that seem more real than the possibility of getting sick some time in the future, and the peer pressure to not mask can be intense. But it only feels less real or less important until your entire life is having Long COVID. Trust me.

I know this is a complicated issue, many people can't afford to stay home when sick even if they want to because of their jobs, there are disgusting policies trying to ban wearing masks, but please if you can. Keep masking. Masking works, masking saves lives.

This post got a bit longer than I wanted so below the cut is a non-exhaustive list of my Long COVID symptoms and some of my experiences as one of the "healthy young people" who got "unlucky". cw brief mention of suicidal ideation.

Welcome to the Thunderdome that is my body with Long COVID. Keep in mind these are just my experiences and symptoms, Long COVID can cause any range of symptoms at varying severities.

Dysautonomia: Exercise intolerance, Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), fatigue, and heat intolerance. What do those things mean? Here's some specific examples. Absolutely terrible circulation I am so cold all the time but also, if I get a little too warm I will pass out. Eating hot food makes my heart rate spike, I sweat, my body feels heavy. Blood pooling and pins and needles in my feet when I walk. Don't even think about exercising past walking, it's impossible. I used to work out an hour a day 4 times a week and now walking up one flight of stairs makes my heart pound and I can't breathe. Can't take even just warm showers anymore or I will pass out. Heat rashes from being in the sun for 10 minutes.

Digestive issues: Honestly too many to name but: constant bloating, extreme nausea, constipation, slow motility, lack of appetite, just so much cramping and pain. I lost 18 pounds from Long COVID, as someone who was already considered underweight their entire life, and almost had to get a shunt put into my chest to deliver nutrients because I was nearly completely unable to eat. For the first 6 months of Long COVID, if I could manage 600 calories a day, that was a good day.

Histamine intolerance: Oh boy. My worst symptoms, I don't even know where to start with it. If you know Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) it's very similar. I can only eat 19 foods. If i eat a single bite of something not on that list, it's 48 hours of absolute hell. Coughing, migraines, itchy eyes, such extreme nausea I cannot even describe it, panic/feeling of doom, racing heart rate, derealization, rash, uncontrollable muscle tremors. I only learned about histamine intolerance 5 months into having Long COVID so before that, I was experiencing these symptoms nearly every single day. Terrifying isn't even a strong enough word to describe how it felt to experience all this and have no idea what it was, how to stop it, or if it would ever stop. Really dark times.

Neurological issues: More of that derealization. Inability to concentrate. Anxiety. OCD-like symptoms such as thoughts getting "stuck" in my head, repeating 24/7 completely unable to stop them, genuinely felt like my brain had cracked open and I had lost my mind. Constant dizziness like I'm on a boat.

Sleep issues: I sleep like garbage. I have insomnia, I wake up dozens of times every night and every single time I sleep I have intensely vivid dreams. I can't sleep longer than 7 hours total no matter how exhausted I am. It is exhausting. I'm exhausted, I'm so so tired.

And finally. Just. Really intense suicidal ideation. My body, my health, my entire life has been stolen from me because someone else decided my life was worth less to them than wearing a mask or staying home if they feel sick. Before I got Long COVID, I was preparing to go to South Korea to teach English, then on to a PhD in neurolinguistics, I was supposed to meet my long distance partner and had already booked plane tickets when I got sick. All of that has been destroyed.

Most of us with Long COVID are stuck in a cycle of being extremely sick, then if you're lucky you'll slowly get better over months, just to get reinfected and go right back where you started or worse. Honestly, I'm not scared of dying from COVID. I'm scared of living for a long time, suffering from Long COVID the entire time. This isn't living.

I don't know how to end this now. I'm still fighting, I'm trying experimental treatments, I'm not giving up yet. I hope everyone reading this stays healthy and well.

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱'𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 ♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 sukuna is a mafia kingpin 𖥔 teasing grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 pregnancy trope 𖥔 he'll burn the world for you 𖥔 "my wife" 𖥔 he's a great dad 𖥔 mentions of miscarriage 𖥔 mentions of physical and sexual assault 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 he loves eating you out 𖥔 anal play (yup.) 𖥔 last warning: mdni!

: ̗̀➛ words: 6.0k

: ̗̀➛ notes: no bc i love you all so much. it's insane how much you guys have supported my toji fanfic & and my nanami fanfic. i'll def be writing a part two to both of those masterpieces (yes i have self-confidence). as someone who's always imagined sukuna as a mafia leader, i decided to say fuck it and write it. please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy! (p.s. pregnancy trope>>>)

You never thought you'd be married to Sukuna Ryomen, let alone carrying his kid again. Yet, four years deep into this forced marital mess, thanks to your father owing a hefty debt to the kingpin of the underworld crime syndicate, here you were.

“Look at you, Mrs. Ryomen, radiant as ever!” chirped one of your husband’s associate's wives. You had studied a name list last night, but it all escaped your memory after you passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Sukuna wasn’t keeping a hawk's eye on you like he used to when you first stepped into the public eye. Gone were the days of his glares if you messed up a name. Never once had he laid a finger on you at home, despite your assumption that forgetfulness would earn you a beating.

“Thank you." You forced a smile at the woman, your patience waning as the mayor's birthday party stretched on. It was almost the end of the night, and your feet were protesting from traipsing around in flats. All you craved at that moment was your bed, pronto.

The woman and her husband attempted to capture Sukuna's lukewarm attention through political discussions and expressing gratitude for the illegal artillery shipments from your husband's syndicate. They made no effort to acknowledge your existence by his side.

Your hand rested on your belly, a mere eight months into your pregnancy—a new personal record. The first time you conceived, Sukuna demanded an heir, and you willingly agreed, knowing that the child would provide some distraction in the expansive estate that felt like a cage. Unfortunately, at the two-month mark, you experienced a miscarriage.

Feeling Sukuna's knuckles lightly tapping your back, you straightened your posture momentarily, only to slouch again almost instantly. It was futile. The discomfort of your swollen and cramped belly made it nearly impossible to maintain a poised demeanor in the midst of the party.

Disobeying Sukuna meant facing inevitable death, a fact well understood in his dangerous domain, and you had never dared to challenge that.

"Let's go," Sukuna said, cutting through the incessant chatter of the couple. He didn't grasp your hand, only your fragile wrist, a gesture you didn't mind. Yours was not a typical love; he, Sukuna Ryomen, a most feared monster in the criminal underworld, and you, a sacrificial lamb, a trophy collected three years ago, a means to his heir.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you exited the venue, heading towards the limousine surrounded by fifteen armed guards under Sukuna's command. "I'm so sorry—"

"Get in the car." He held the door open for you, signaling his guards to disperse and take their positions in the Jeeps parked behind.

Silencing yourself, you cautiously settled into the back seat, and Sukuna joined you, slamming the door with force. His anger was discernible, and the memory of that night, losing your second unborn child to a kidnapping, plagued your dreams. You were uncertain if the nightmares were about Sukuna's wrath upon finding you or the horrors his enemies inflicted on you during your 48-hour captivity.

Sukuna noticed your struggle with the seatbelt and contorted his body toward you. Your fingers released their grip on the belt, allowing him to pull it taut and secure it snugly around your midsection. Click. He withdrew, distancing himself from your face that had been mere inches away.

“Tedious fucking party, anyway,” Sukuna grumbled, his left ankle casually perched on his right kneecap. He always adopted a specific posture, his elbow leaning against something, cheek resting on his knuckles, and his narrow eyes a rich brown that could almost pass for a deep shade of red. He exuded an unrelenting air of intimidation.

"I agree," you unintentionally voiced your thoughts, earning a sidelong glance from him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

His attention barely lingered on you as the car roared to life. You breathed a sigh of relief, stretching out your legs and leaning your head back against the seat's shoulder. Your palm absentmindedly traced circles on your belly. Goosebumps peppered your skin from the frigidness in the car, stirring an involuntary shudder.

"Turn on the heater," Sukuna ordered the driver in his smooth, languid baritone.

"Yes, sir."

As warmth gradually surrounded the backseat, you hummed a small "Thank you" and closed your eyes, enjoying a few moments of peace.

Disorientation clouded your senses, and you dispelled it by rubbing your eyes and using your knuckles to prop yourself against the headboard. A couple of contractions ripped through your gut, causing you to groan and hiss through gritted teeth.

The enormous room was devoid of Sukuna, its black silk sheets hinting at the luxury covering you. The fireplace casted a warm glow, and a soft, dim golden light spilled from the lamp onto the floor.

In the first year of your marriage and pregnancy, your bedroom was located three doors away. You were tended to by on-site nurses and doctors, surrounded by an entourage of maids for company. Days were spent aimlessly wandering the estate, occasionally crossing paths with one of Sukuna's mistresses, their curious smirks evident as they exited his room.

The second year brought a subtle shift. You still slept alone, but now there was a surprising addition of joining Sukuna for dinner. Positioned diagonally from him, an air of restrained silence hung above your head. Yet, between the utensils clattering and quiet chewing, Sukuna's glances toward you and your five-month-old belly revealed your anticipation for the impending arrival of your child.

One of your maids had been instructed to lure you into a private conversation in the back garden, and before you could react, a group of men clad in black drugged you and forcibly removed you from the cage, which in that cruel moment felt like a sanctuary.

Most details of the monstrosities forced upon you in that warehouse have been compressed by your mind—the merciless physical and sexual assault endured for hours. They callously bragged that raping Sukuna's Ryomen's wife was a personal victory, cackling like bloodthirsty hyenas as you bled from your legs. In the thick of your suffering, you lost your second child in a pool of your own sweat and feces.

When Sukuna discovered you, when he annihilated every man along with their bloodlines, you were left as a mere shell of a woman, practically lifeless. You've existed as a walking corpse for quite some time now. Following that dreadful night, you attempted every conceivable means to end your own life—drowning, leaping out of windows, creating a makeshift noose from bed sheets and tying them around balcony railings, teetering on the edge—but every attempt proved useless. Sukuna consistently interfered at the last minute, sweeping in and enveloping you in his arms as you wept until unconsciousness claimed you for days.

Therapy provided some relief, as did the medications. Sukuna heightened security measures tenfold, keeping only those workers who served during his father and grandfather's reigns. He moved your belongings into his bedroom, sleeping by your side with a gun beneath his pillow. There were times when you would doze off in the library while reading, only to wake up in his room.

Two years seemed like an eternity in the slow process of healing, both physically and mentally, from the torment that had befallen you. Stepping into the garden was a reminder of the progress you had made, yet the hope that blossomed in your womb now filled you with a different kind of fear.

You needed your baby. Even if it meant risking your own life during childbirth. The only thing that mattered was the precious life you carried within you, and as long as your baby took that first breath, you'd welcome death with open arms.

Sukuna's bedroom door creaked open, revealing his presence.

Mink-colored tendrils of hair obscured his eyes, disheveled from their usual spiked stance. The stark white of his dress shirt was marred by the unmistakable stains of someone else's blood, and a gun dangled casually from his grasp. In the subdued lighting, his facial markings, inked tattoos designed to mask the scars of his tormented childhood, appeared more ominous than ever.

Without acknowledging your ogling, he briskly entered his bathroom.

You slipped back under the covers, pulling the comforter up to your chin, soothing the sharp twinges in your belly. The rhythmic sounds of his shower served as a background melody. Sukuna took an eternity to freshen up, nearly two hours passing before the door finally creaked open. You had kept a close eye on it, lost in your own world and trying to ignore the persistent contractions. No complaints, though – you were at the eight-month mark, and this baby was determined to make its entrance into the world.

Draped in a sleek black silk robe, Sukuna strolled toward his side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. "Why are you still awake?" He tilted his head as if studying an unfamiliar creature. He always regarded you with a curious interest, unearthing some new revelations about you.

"Cramps," you whispered in the dimness, even though the first rays of morning sun began to seep through the curtains.

Sukuna strolled to his side of the bed, lifting the comforter to settle down. "Do you take any medication for it?"

You shook your head. "I don't want to take any risks."

"So you're just going to endure the night with a migraine?"

Your husband seemed oblivious to the concept of cramps. He hadn't bothered to educate himself about your pregnancy or even familiarize himself with basic menstrual cycle terminology. You hesitated to bring attention to his title and position, but he was, after all, born from a woman.

How could he not know?

"Answer me," Sukuna demanded, fixing you with a cold, indifferent gaze. How could two simple words carry such a heavy, intimidating weight? Your entire body shuddered, and you swore you felt your child kick in response to his attitude, causing you to clench your teeth.

"Cramps . . . are something women experience during their period and pregnancy. They're sharp, unpredictable pains in your gut and back," you explained, finding a position that eased the cramps and calmed your baby. "It's worse when you're pregnant—like someone attached a taser to your body without a switch to turn it off."

Sukuna's brow furrowed, and he seemed pissed off as if he held a vendetta against cramps. "Will it have any consequence on the baby?"

You were really trying to be patient. “The baby is the reason why.” 

He ran his hands wearily down his face, casting a stern gaze at the ceiling, his breath quickening. "Is there any way to relieve the pain? Besides medication?"

“Well,” you said slowly, “when I first started menstruating, my mother used to place a warm rubber bottle on my stomach.” The recollection of nights spent groaning, tossing, and turning with your hand clutching your stomach brought a smile. After her passing in high school, you found yourself managing the household, dealing with your drug-addicted father, and taking care of yourself all on your own.

"Come here."

Startled, you shifted your focus to your husband, who raised the comforter like a makeshift tent with one arm. "You don't have to—"

"Come here."

With caution, you edged closer, lying flat and holding your breath. Sukuna propped himself up on one elbow, resting his temple on his knuckles while adjusting the blanket up to your neck. His left hand glided up your sweater and settled on your swollen belly.

An immediate sense of relaxation cocooned you, your eyes closing as warmth radiated from his palm onto your skin. The sensation passed through to your child, who quit kicking within seconds, seemingly recognizing their father's touch. It dawned on you that Sukuna hadn't touched you since you conceived, and you hadn't realized the volume of your misery and longing until this moment.

"Feeling better?"

"Mm-hmm." You nestled your face close to his neck. All you managed to whisper, your voice tinged with brokenness, was, "Please, don't let go."

Sukuna responded only with silence.

You'd woken up screaming bloody-mary.

The security team and maids hurried into the bedroom, their eyes widening at the sight of blood staining your clothes and darkening the black sheets. In a swift response, the doctor and her team of nurses rushed in while Uraume, Sukuna's trusted aide, calmly called for your husband from a corner of the room.

In the heat of your excruciating screams, five nurses attempted to guide your breathing and encourage you to follow a pattern. Guards carefully lifted you into a sitting position, and Uraume decisively cleared the room of all men. The doctor swiftly removed your sweatpants and panties, covering your lower region with a sheet, and instructing you to push.

Your body felt numb, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and a black vignette closing in on your vision. Your head swayed left and right, on the verge of dropping if not for Uraume's unwavering support. Despite the intensity of your grip, they held steady, their only reaction being a stream of muttered curses amid the chaotic scene.

"I can't—Uraume—"

"You will, Mrs. Sukuna. You have come this far. Giving up now is not an option."

"I don't want to die," you whispered akin to a prayer.

"You won't," they softly replied. "He won't allow it."

Uraume, a silent figure from the past, now stood by your side, offering support and encouragement. The connection with them had been minimal, limited to the formalities of a marital contract signing. They had simply muttered, “He’s not half as evil as they say,” to you before packing up the papers and leaving you in the room with Sukuna.

The room buzzed with affirmations, reassuring you that they could see the baby's head and urging you to push with each breath.

The sound of the baby's cries stirred you awake.

You snapped to attention at the sweet, reassuring sound, realizing that your baby was close to arrival—alive and ready to face the world. Following two heartbreaking miscarriages and the pain endured as Sukuna's wife, the bearer of his lost children, you were finally on the cusp of welcoming motherhood.

"Two more pushes!" The doctor's voice cut through the air.

"AGH!" A guttural growl escaped your throat as you grappled with the harsh sensations. Your body trembled, and waves of fiery discomfort overflowed through your core as you exerted yourself to bring your baby into the world.

"Come on," Uraume whispered. "You can do this, Mrs. Ryomen."

You let out a powerful cry and strained with effort, bringing forth new life. The baby and you were crying at the exact wavelength, competing against who could be louder. The nurses and attendants, familiar faces from your previous pregnancies, clasped their hands in prayer for a safe delivery. Tears of relief streamed down your face as you pushed for your own well-being.

"Blanket!" the doctor urgently called out, prompting a nurse to rush over with a soft cream blanket. "Push!"

With a final, determined push, the weight lifted suddenly.

The slippery sensation of delivering the child and the immediate release of pressure left you slumping against Uraume's shoulder. As they laid you down, the doctor directed the staff to tend to you while the baby's cries filled the air.

The doctor approached through your hazy sight and gently laid your newborn on your chest. Overwhelmed with emotion, you showered your baby with kisses, tears of joy streaming down your face. Your little one was here. They were finally here.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Ryomen," the doctor announced as the cries of your newborn gradually faded into the background. "It's a girl."

You drifted into unconsciousness.

The soft cadence of Sukuna's voice filtered through the foggy boundaries of sleep, causing you to slowly come back to life.

“Why is this brat refusing to sleep?” you heard your husband grumbling.

With a laborious effort, you rubbed your eyes, summoning the strength to lift your head from the comfort of the pillow. The scene unfolded before you—Sukuna, the most feared criminal, pacing at the foot of his bed, cradling your crying newborn daughter in his arms, unsure of how to handle his little foe.

"What do you want? Food? You don’t have any teeth yet, little miscreant."

"Sukuna . . ." you whispered, a gentle plea for attention.

Your husband's gaze snapped in your direction, relief washing over his features as he realized you were conscious. "Thank fuck." Moving swiftly, he approached and took a seat at the edge of the bed.

His brown-reddish eyes lingered on the delicate scene unfolding before him—the intertwining of your index finger with your daughter's tiny, rattling fist. A calming magic seemed to stem from your touch, instantly soothing the cries to soft sniffles.

"Already playing favorites, I see," he remarked with a teasing tone, a wry smile on his lips.

"I have to feed her." Your voice was hoarse from the relentless screaming during the delivery. A series of deadly wheezes followed when you coughed, frightening your baby once more. Her cries started again, blending with the impatient curses of her father.

He gently placed her in the cradle, his strength used to prop you up against the headboard. The room carried the scent of coconut soap, your body freshly washed, the sheets beneath you brand-new. You were also dressed in a new set of panties and a nursing bra.

"Are you sure you have enough nutrients in your body to feed her?" Sukuna asked, holding your baby girl as you unclipped the front left cup. Rather than wasting your breath on a response, you focused on helping your daughter latch onto your nipple.

You winced once she caught it, then melted back as she started drinking. “I’m fine,” you finally answered. “Body . . . hurts.”

"No shit. You pushed an eight pound baby out of you." Despite the crude sarcasm in his tone, Sukuna tenderly caressed his knuckles over his daughter's cheek.

"Did you want . . . a girl?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, adjusting your baby onto your lap. "I assumed you'd prefer a boy as an heir."

"I'm not my father," he declared, putting an end to the conversation. "She's got your eyes."

Your daughter gazed up at you with a curiosity remarkably similar to yours. You smiled down at her, grateful she had made it. Grateful that Sukuna wasn't throwing a tantrum over the gender of your child but instead cupping the top of his baby girl's head and brushing his thumb across her forehead.

“You got a name for her?” Sukuna asked.

“Yes, but we can brainstorm if you don’t—”

“You carried the child, you birthed her, you will name her. Whatever it is, I agree.”

Something dead stirred inside your chest. Swallowing hard, you shared the chosen name, "Nobara."

He nodded in approval, and as he pronounced her name, Nobara responded with a wailing cry. "Her tantrums will be the fucking death of me." Sukuna took her into his arms again.

"Support the back of her head and rub her back. She needs to be burped," you advised.

He grunted but followed your instructions. Moments later, a tiny burp from Nobara made you chuckle, earning a slight eye roll and a hint of a smile from him.

"I'll take the next few weeks off to help you recover from the aftermath and the stitches," he announced, rising and walking towards his work desk, where he settled into a large leather chair, cradling your newborn.

You nodded appreciatively, easing yourself down.

"Oh, before I forget," Sukuna mentioned as you settled into bed, "I've arranged a new doctor for you."

“Did you fire the last one?”

“I fired at her, yes.”

Your eyes widened. "What? Why would you—? What?"

He shrugged, cradling the back of your newborn's head. "She suggested an additional stitch for you. Said it would make things 'tighter' down there for me."

Your face flushed. “So . . . you killed her?”

"Yes," he confirmed, his gaze fixed on you with those penetrating eyes, "I don't need a mere doctor questioning whether I'd still enjoy having sex with my wife after she gave birth to our child."

“But . . . you have mistresses. Don’t you?”

He lifted a brow. “I had mistresses up until . . . ”

Up until the kidnapping.

Sukuna never spoke of the crime after he’d saved you. Instead, he expressed his commitment through actions: sleeping beside you, teaching you how to handle a handgun, keeping a protective arm around your waist at social gatherings. Occasionally, you swore you felt him run his fingers through your hair as you slept.

"I wouldn't mind if you did," you admitted, a voice inside contradicting your words. "Given what my body has been through, I would find myself repulsive for pleasure, too. I understand if you feel disgusted."

Sukuna halted the gentle strokes on your daughter's back and straightened up. "What the fuck did you just say?"

An icy shiver ran through you, momentarily numbing the pain. "I-I just assumed—"

"You know, you make a lot of assumptions about me, wife. It gets under my fucking skin that you'd ever believe I could raise a hand on you. Day and night, every hour and minute, even now, in your presence, my mind is consumed with ways to kill the fear that's taken root in you.” He was infuriated yet vulnerable, with Nobara sleeping peacefully on his shoulder. “Everyone I’ve ever met has done nothing but fear me like I’m a curse on their soul, and while I’m flattered of the monster they’ve painted me out to be, I refuse to let my wife and daughter see me in that light. Do I make myself clear?"

You . . . nodded. 

“And for your information, I had mistresses up until I married you.”

You took in a sharp breath, processing the confession. "But those women—"

"Spies," he clarified, his voice low and steady. "They operate undercover in my clubs, keeping an eye out for potential threats. I haven't fucked anyone since the day I put that ring on your finger." He offered a small, almost imperceptible apology to your baby for cursing.

"Oh."

All you ever heard were twisted stories about the Sukuna Ryomen, a young man who, against all odds, slaughtered his own father to ascend the throne of the underworld criminal realm. Whispers spoke of a chilling childhood, where a mother's desperate attempt to suffocate her son in his sleep. The scars etched into his skin, concealed beneath a tapestry of dark markings, bore witness to the brutal initiation rites inflicted by vengeful uncles. In his domain, everyone prayed to see him buried six feet under.

Which is why you felt sympathy for your husband. He was lonely. Too lonely. Despite all the riches and influence surrounding him, he was stuck in a fortress where danger lurked around every corner. He had no friends, no one he could truly confide in—except perhaps Uraume. Opening up about his emotions wasn't in his nature. He kept the tough exterior, convinced that being a monster, a curse, was the only path to earning respect and recognition.

But just now, when had cut himself open in front of you and bled a human color, he was Sukuna. Your husband. The one who just became a father. A man wrapped in a comfortable robe with his hair combed down and his skin clean of dirt and blood as he held his daughter, as he gazed at you like you two were the only people meant fighting for in his treacherous world.

Sukuna noticed your silence, tuned in to your steady breaths, and lowered his lashes. "You'll ask me to touch you. Not just for the sake of having another child but for your own pleasure. If I'm not around and you need me, you will call, and I'll rush home. If this little brat gives you any trouble, I'll handle it. Hell, maybe I'll let her in on a bit of the family business for a head start."

"No," you murmured, absorbing everything he'd just said. "Not now. I want her to enjoy a proper childhood."

"Is that a demand?" Sukuna tilted his head slightly, another method of asserting authority. Yet, after all he'd shared about dropping everything for you, about making love to you, the fear in you started to dissolve bit by bit.

"Yes," you affirmed. "It's a demand."

A small smirk played on Sukuna's lips as he rose from his spot, circled the bed, and settled down beside you, with Nobara resting peacefully on his chest. Summoning all your strength, you turned to run your fingers over your baby's soft cheek and tiny, parted lips.

“She sleeps like you, Mr. Ryomen.”

“Sukuna,” he corrected, his arm covering his eyes as he breathed with a slightly open mouth. “My wife will call me Sukuna.”

Teasingly, you asked, “Is that a demand, Sukuna?”

His arm shifted low, and his reddish-brown eyes softened, stealing your breath. “Only from my wife and daughter.”

You smiled, closing your eyes. “Goodnight, Sukuna.”

In response, he wrapped his strong arm around you, pulling you close to his side, his two girls snuggled against his body.

In the beginning, you knew you didn't belong in the hell Sukuna ruled. Your father's mistakes, pilfering drug shipments and peddling them locally, had sealed both his fate and yours. With thoughts of fleeing the disgrace your father brought upon your family, you had started packing, desperate to escape the clutches of your old man.

The following night, Sukuna and his henchmen barged into your cramped apartment, wreaking havoc on every piece of furniture. Rocking in the corner of your room, Sukuna casted his shadow over you like the God of Death, bathed in your father’s blood.

Crouching down to your eye level, he tipped your chin up, leaving a splotch of blood. He used the collar of your sweater to wipe it away. In a hushed confession, you revealed the hidden drugs under the sink and floorboards, along with your father's buyer list folded in the cereal boxes. Sukuna grinned and ordered his underlings to retrieve the concealed items. Then, the chilling question hung in the air: "Are you going to kill me, too?"

"I'm tempted," Sukuna replied, "but not to kill you." His gaze fixated on your left hand, and he raised it, studying your ring finger. "You will pay for your father's crimes with your life." He held your hand in front of your face. "You will take my last name." His smirk widened, revealing perfect teeth. "Isn't that the cruelest form of death, love?"

Unconsciousness claimed you then, but after seven years of marriage, enduring unimaginable hardships, and finally welcoming a baby into the world, your answer was clear. The true torment wasn't caused by the man you once perceived as a monster but rather by his enemies.

"How am I supposed to know if Mr. Munchkin wants more tea? He's a fucking stuffed toy. Can't talk, you know?"

"Sukuna," you warned, perched on the armrest while busy crocheting baby socks for your little one on the way.

Nobara, wielding a rubber, squeaky hammer, stood up from her seat, giving her father a bonk on the head each time he let out a curse. And you often heard the squeak of the hammer around the house.

Nobara's tiara was slightly askew, frustration evident in her curled lips and bared teeth. She was growing increasingly irritated with her father's lack of understanding about the rules of her tea party. "Mr. Munchkin wants tea, Papa. Give him tea! Give him tea! Give him—"

"Fine, I surrender. Here, you little bastard. Take the whole fu—damn pot." He shoved the plastic teapot towards Mr. Munchkin, a well-loved cat stuffed toy you had gifted Nobara on her last birthday. "Happy?"

"Cup," she insisted, pointing at the tea cup in front of Mr. Munchkin.

Sukuna sighed and poured the water from the kettle into the pink plastic cup.

"Me too," Nobara added, settling back in her kiddie chair. Sukuna had barely taken his seat before she had him on the floor. "Hurry!"

"May I pour for the other toys first, Your Highness?"

"Not toys. Friends."

Sukuna shot you a helpless glare, eliciting a chuckle from you. He filled the table with tea, and Nobara, holding her small cup, clinked it with her father's, followed by her collection of stuffed animals. Sukuna reluctantly mimicked the gesture. Instead of sipping the tea, he downed it like a shot.

“Papa!”

“Sukuna, come on.”

There wasn’t any winning with his girls.

Sukuna reluctantly poured himself another cup, sipping it with an air of royalty that mirrored a princess. Despite his resistance to the make-believe tea party, you couldn't ignore the genuine affection he showed toward his daughter. He would nod attentively when one of the stuffed animals "spoke," laughed along with Nobara, and even beautified himself with a glittering tiara, a feathered pink scarf, and deep purple-painted nails.

Sukuna was, without a doubt, a fantastic father. It came as no surprise that Nobara's first word was 'Brat.'

That night, you kissed your daughter goodnight and tucked her into her bed. Sukuna joked that he’d spent every last bit of his wealth decorating the brat’s room, filling it with the latest toys, and stacking her closet with whatever clothes she laid her finger or eyes on. She was truly the princess of her father’s heart.

"She's asleep," you informed him.

"I'll give her a kiss in a minute. Just need to finish this," Sukuna replied, pouring over his documents.

Letting out a sigh, you shuffled over, rolled back his chair, and settled onto his lap. He continued reading as you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your cheek on his shoulder, peering at him through your lashes.

"I want you," you murmured.

Sukuna paused, lowering his gaze to meet your cheeky smile. "Later."

"It's late."

"I have to finish—" He halted as you began kissing his neck, moving up to his jaw and cheeks, tracing the contours of his face tattoos.

"Please, Sukuna," you whispered near his ear.

How could he refuse you anything when you appeared so stunning, radiating with the joy of expecting another child in your four-month-old belly?

“Take off your robe and get on the bed. Spread your legs for me.” He gave your ass a little smack as you happily skipped away, shedding your clothes and clearing the bed to settle in. With a grin, you opened your legs, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Sukuna stood up from his seat, loosening his robe as he did. He sighed, watching the moisture forming between your legs. Pregnancy seemed to heighten your lusts, and Sukuna was always ready to fulfill your needs.

“What pretty, wet cunt,” he whispered softly, leaning in to kiss your chest, trailing down to your stomach, your hips, your calling clit. 

Over the years, you realized Sukuna enjoyed pleasuring you more than the opposite. He feasted on you like a starved man, whether it happened in the back of the limo, in a guest room during a party, or just minutes before a crucial meeting in his office. He insisted it was his way of relaxing, often pleading with you to spend a full hour on his face as he ate you out and drank every drop of your release. It had turned into a daily routine for him. And for you.

“Oh, Sukuna, yes, yes. Right there—ah!” Your back arched off the mattress when his tongue drove into your hole, flicking and exploring your clamping walls. His mouth was latched to your pussy, sucking it in, his cheeks hollowing rapidly. Your fingers tightened in his hair, hips voluntarily grating against his face, his sharp nose rubbing over your swollen clit. 

Sukuna drew back as you came down with a muted cry behind your hand and lapped at the flow of your juices pouring out of you. His lips shone as he leaned over and gently kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself from his tongue. “If I don’t fuck you now, I will die.” 

“Hurry, then.” 

Sukuna pushed himself inside you, and that first wave of pleasure hit you so strongly that you sank your nails in his back and cried out heavenwards. He groaned and grunted, thrusts growing speed, his plump balls smacking against your ass. You loved that he fucked harder, faster, driving you to the brink of ruination. 

After you'd healed from Nobara's birth, he would always make sure to get at least ten orgasms from you. From midnight to early morning, he'd fuck you in every possible position. But his favorite was always missionary, where he could have his eyes on you, writhing and whimpering beneath him, telling him it’s too much, he's too thick, all while using your heels to draw him in even closer.

Sukuna curled his arm around your waist and sat you up on his lap, thrusting up into you as you coiled yourself around his neck. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your cunt was made for me, love. Your cunt was fucking made for me.” His hand threaded to the back of your head, grasping your hair and drawing your face back so you were looking him in the eyes without wavering, without bowing your head. He needed to know you didn’t fear him when he fucked you like this. It was an unspoken check-in, and when you smiled drunkenly, only then did he let you return to embracing him. 

“Are you close?” you whispered. 

“Not yet. I want to come in your ass.” 

You shivered despite how scalding and sweaty your bodies were. “Do it.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded. “Please.” 

Sukuna dragged you off his cock so you could get on all-fours, raising your ass up for him. He’s only ever been in your sacred spot a handful of times but never finished himself inside it. It appeared that tonight you were both a little extra spellbound.

Mounting himself behind you, Sukuna unfurled your ass and spit on his fingers, stroking the puckered hole. He gathered the creamy liquid dripping out of your pussy to lubricate the spot. His middle finger stretched you out, followed by his ring fingers, pushing in and out until he knew for sure you were prepared for him. 

Sukuna’s steel-hard cock pushed into your tiny hole. The sight of it expanding to swallow his girthy size almost made him come right there and then. He started to move in sluggish movement, grabbing onto your waist. His hips cruised, brushing against your ass, making you impatient and push yourself back. 

“Understood.” He chuckled and dug his nails into your skin, dragging out to the tip and shoving himself inside. Your face pressed into your pillows, crying and trembling as he abused your asshole non-stop. “You’re taking me so well, my love. Oh, fuck, fuck.” He rutted into you like a beast, claiming your body, rubbing your clit from the front, spanking your ass, brandishing you over and over again. 

You both snapped in unison. 

Sukuna sagged over your spine as he bucked in every last bit of his sloppy seed. His lips kissed your shoulder blades, holding you up by one arm. Gently, he pulled out, his cock growing floppy until you flipped onto your back, hair sticking to your sweaty, flushed face, belly slightly swollen, your tits larger in size, his release mingled with yours seeping out from your holes. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered, cupping your face like he didn’t just fuck your soul out of you. That smirk you’d come to love appeared on his lips. You reciprocated back, stretching out your arms so he could lean down and kiss you sweetly on the lips and cheeks and toss in a praise or two for what a good girl you were as he slid into you again, slower and more intimate with his game. “I fucking love you, Y/N.” 

You smiled against his lips that continuously whispered the three beautiful words and said, “I love you, too, Sukuna,” before sealing it with a long, lasting kiss.

[hwallazia]

XMAS DINNER GOES WRONG – 정우영

⋆ synopsis. it seems like your husband can’t keep it in his pants, not even on a fucking christmas dinner with his family. but, as the lovely wifey you are, you gotta give him some relief, right?

pairing. husband! jung wooyoung & fem! reader.

wc. 3,2k

warnings. smut (mdni!), suggestive language, cussing, almost!! getting caught by wooyoung’s mom (oops), pet names (love, babe, my wife, pretty girl & more), nipple play, wooyoung sucks your entire skin (neck, collarbone, tits and the list can continue…), teasing, wooyoung tears your panties to shreds heh, not dirty—NASTY TALK, begging, yn at some point says “stop” but it’s bc she’s far too blissed out; not bc she actually wanted him to stop, this is alllll consensual!!, unprotected sex, praise ofc, squirting, gut-wrenching fluff in the end ‘cause love him too much.

nic’s notes ⋆ first ff of the xmas event yes sir !! i felt some shit writing this istg (๑/////๑ " )

you know holidays, right?

the perfect opportunity for the entire family to gather and celebrate achievements, blessings, and thousands and thousands of other things. cousins, nephews, aunts, uncles, and even great-grandparents were reunited in that cold and windy winter night. an entire feast was splayed on the table for everyone’s delightfulness, different kinds of foods and smells mixing and creating a delicious, toe-curling experience for anyone’s nostrils.

the hours you had spent shopping for every ingredient for each dish, cutting the vegetables, cooking everything to the exact, perfect point and term really paid off once your and your husband’s family were brought together at the large, dark oak table to celebrate your very first holiday — both families now joined together as one.

nothing could go wrong. the chatting flew as calm and joyful as spring water, sharing experiences and old memories pleasingly, smiles spread like the most enchanting disease—as well as the wholesome ambience, and everything was accompanied by a delightful meal, the well-deserved five star bonus of the evening.

so, if everything was meant to go perfectly, then why the hell was your husband staring at you with the most explicit, sluttiest “fuck me” eyes you’ve ever seen?

wooyoung sat in front of you, his two cousins sitting each on his sides. his plate was rather full, and that had an explanation: he was far too gone and busy burying heart-shaped daggers into your eyes while his hand cupped his cheek, head tilting to his right — his tongue glided over his dry bottom lip every now and then. you’d bet that none of his thoughts were in the bible. ‘cause fuck, even his younger brother would guess that something’s odd about him. that that’s not the usual behavior of his dear older brother.

“yn? darling?” the voice of wooyoung’s mother dragged out quickly of your insulation bubble. her tilted head clearly showed that she had been trying to talk to you for a while. a soft, warming hue of red struck your cheekbones.

as you gyrated your head to meet her worried gaze, you replied. “yes! mrs. jung, ‘m sorry. what were you saying?”

“are you doing fine, sweetie? you were gone for a bit.” she stared at you intently, genuinely worried about her daughter in-law. oh that woman was almost a fallen angel—if not one. if only she knew it was his own son who was to blame—the very last person she’d suspect, and oh, how deliciously ironic that was.

the figure of your husband’s shit-eating grin could be seen out of the corner of your eye—a sight that ignited a fiery rage within you, yet one you couldn’t help but savor, lingering on the view as long as possible before responding to your sweet mother-in-law. “oh, it was nothing. i’m prolly just zoning out because of how tired i am. y’ know, spending the entire day in the kitchen was exhausting.” the cherry on top of the excuse was the little, innocent giggle you emitted by the end. the woman gave you the most pitiful, yet endearing look. she lifted her arm, indicating with her open palm the white stairs, the reflection of the christmas-decorated banister lighting up her eyes.

“oh, sweetheart. you should go rest, it’s pretty late after all.” her gesture softened your heart, chest clenching a bit.

this woman was going to be the death of you! … uhm, never mind. first place is taken by wooyoung, who seems quite excited with the idea of going upstairs with you, by the way. take a guess at what his mind is scheming.

you shook your hands in front of your chest, quickly denying the opportunity. “thank you really, but i’m okay. i’ll just go wash my face.” you excused yourself, hovering your leg over the other and getting yourself up. “maybe that way i can wake up completely.” ending with a little giggle, you started walking towards the staircase when suddenly, the voice of your dear husband rang inside your ears.

“excuse me. i’ll go help my wife.” his foxy eyes curved into crescent moons, and his lips stretched wide, forming an upward line. oh fuck, you were done for.

“oh yes, i was about to ask you to do the same. please, son.” she stated, nodding approvingly. oh what a gentleman she had raised.

you resumed your steps quickly, arriving to the second floor in less than you expected. you turned your head, only to be met with an empty corridor. thank goodness he hadn’t gotten there yet.

or so you thought. ‘cause when you refocused your attention to your front, a pair of arms grabbed you by your waist and swung you around the air in a swift motion as he dragged you to an empty room. the last sound heard in the corridor was the slam of a closing door.

your breathless body was pinned against a cold wall, trapped between two quite familiar, tanned arms. simultaneously, your disoriented irises tried to adjust to the darkness of the room and focus on the feverish, hungry eyes standing in front of you.

“wh… what the fuck was that.” you muttered as the remains of your breath flew away. wooyoung seemed enchanted by your current state though.

“heeey, don’t curse at me like that.” his gentle, cocky voice penetrated your mind like a bullet. knuckles crept up the sides of your exposed arms, providing soothing strokes — goosebumps prickled to life in response. he opened his warm palms and reached to your also bare shoulder, massaging them. “after all, ’m jus’ here to help you.” he pulled his secret weapon and started making out with your neck, licking your flesh like a starving man and spreading wet kisses all over it.

“help me? how are you helping me like this?” you uttered as your breath hitched, head leaning to the side at the right angle to give him enough space.

wooyoung sucked that sensitive spot that always made your eyes roll to the very back of your head, dragging a whine out of you successfully. his chuckle and victorious smirk didn’t go unseen by your already blissed-out self. he leaned back a little to admire you. just for a bit, palms not leaving their place. “you’ll know when we’re done.” his hands moved in a swift motion, arms wrapping around your thighs and shoulders, lifting you effortlessly in a princess carry. “for now, just shut up and enjoy it, hm?”

“w-wooyoung—you know we can’t do this now— angh!” your anxious, flustered self made a futile attempt to reason with wooyoung, hoping he’d remember that both your families were gathered downstairs for a fucking christmas dinner—while he, entirely unbothered, seemed more than eager to spend the evening thoroughly ruining you in the bed just one floor above. and that was clearly shown when he threw you to the bed as if you were the lightest feather and immediately crawled to you.

“c’mon, love. i just wanna help you stay awake” his gravelly voice purred gift next to your ear as his taunting hands played with the sides of your dress, fingertips aching and itching to rip it off you.

he had you underneath him, completely flustered and nervous. he knew you were really anxious about the dinner—you’d spent a whole hour straight ranting about how nerve-wracking the preparations were, only to end up feeling physically ill from the overwhelming surge of dopamine flooding your system. but your reddened cheeks were smiling at him and your plump lips were whispering nasty things to him. holy fuck, how couldn’t he be tempted?

he needed to be balls deep in you. now.

his skillful tongue found home in your neck and collarbone, sucking cute love bites all over. but, your body was still tense, too uneasy at the thought of the possible scenario of someone entering the room and catching the two of you in such a compromising position.

“b-babe, please—hmph”

in a sultry tone, he muttered, “already begging. so fucking cute.” a smirk was drawn on his lips before his hands reached to your cleavage and popped your tits out of your low-cut dress. “y’ want me to fuck you? ‘s that what it is?”

before you could even think of an answer, he dived right into your breasts, licking your sensitive nipples as though they were his favorite toy — because they absolutely were.

god, the incessant thoughts that ran through your head and his tongue lapping around your buds were too much. everything was starting to be too much, and he hadn’t even taken your clothes off. with heightened sensitivity, your lips fell open and a beautiful, sweet melody of your moans and whimpers escaped through them — a delightful melody for your husband’s ears.

impatient hands stripped you of your glittery dress, leaving you with nothing but your black, thin panties. wooyoung took a moment for himself — well, more accurately for you, to admire and revel in your beauty as he should. a rush of blood surged to his cock, making it throb even harder than before. he was no more than a man, overwhelmed by desire. “you’re fucking irresistible, y’ know that?” he started down to where your and his crotch connected, brows furrowing when he saw your clothed pussy. “i think it’s time for this to go.”

a sharp rrrrrip! bounced through the walls and brought your attention. “woo did you just—?!” you followed the movement of his hands, which discarded the shreds of black fabric to the floor. “that was my—! hahh” and his thumb flew right to your already swollen clit, stimulating it with circling motions.

“why’re you whining when you know i’ll buy you ten more pairs,” he whispered as he soaked in the unsteady shiftiness of your body — and for that, he posed a strong yet harmless grip on your waist. his fat thumb worked nonstop over your bud, sending sparks right to it. your body jolted upward at the feeling of his middle and index fingers tracing soft lines up your pink folds. the sight of your walls clenching and relaxing around nothing spun him. “ooh, what a greedy wifey i got.” he chuckled under his breath, gaze stuck to his home — and i mean your cunt. “sooo desperate for my fingers, huh?”

at this point, any sense or unsteady thought had already vanished away, completely replaced by a selfish state of mind. you wanted him to finger you, fuck you, drive you insane. and you wanted it right fucking now. and so you mewled, “god, please just do something.”

“got the name wrong, darling.” and with that, he pushed two fingers at once inside your fluttering walls, tugging a satisfied moan out of you. “it’s wooyoung. or hubby” he giggled. he fucking giggled as he rammed those fingers mercilessly, shooting stars and fireworks filling your vision.

“w-wait stop— baby, please— fffuck!” stuttering words and incoherent gibberish spilled from your swollen lips, too red and slick from how often and harshly you’d bitten them; eyes welling up with tears from the intense pleasure overload.

“stop?” a chuckle rumbled through his chest. “fine then” he withdrew his long phalanges, leaving you empty. completely fucking empty, with velvety and throbbing walls already missing him. you cried as you felt the void of your pulsating pussy, but before you could coax a desperate “please” from your lips, wooyoung grabbed you by the waist. you gasped, as he manhandled you, positioning you on top, naked folds grazing his clothed sex.

you pouted and wooyoung laughed. he was finding this shit way too funny. “since you so nicely begged me to stop, then put your back into it, mm?” a loud smack! reverberated through the walls as his heavy palm landed on the flesh of your ass. “fuck yourself on my cock, pretty girl.”

and did he have to tell you twice. desperate, shuddering hands worked on his dress pants, quickly undoing his belt and zipping it down just enough to uncover his rock-hard bulge. you grabbed the band of his boxers and pulled it down as well, his cock springing finally free. with a smooth movement, you took his member and positioned it below you. and just before you sit down on him completely, someone knocked on the fucking door.

the surprise caused you to jolt and lose control, sinking in a faster and sloppier motion than you intended — a loud cry resonating through the thin walls the moment his tip kissed your cervix perfectly. with eyes wide open, you slapped a hand over your mouth, cursing yourself for being so fucking noisy and sensitive and—

“yn? are you in here?” the muffled voice of wooyoung’s mother echoed from the other side of the door.

shit shit shit.

“y-yes, ma’am! i… ’m kinda busy over in here—ugh!” you tried to speak as loud and clear as you could, but wooyoung seemed to be unbothered by your efforts since he grabbed your hips and started swaying your core up and down his girth. up, down, up, down.

you stared at your husband with glaring eyes, stabbing knives into his. fuck, did this man even care about being heard by his own mother? now, with all doubts gone, you’re certain you’ve married a freak.

“are you okay, sweetie? what’s going on over there?”

and you swear you heard the door creaking open, so you exclaimed. “no! everything’s fine!” you yelped, your voice higher-pitched than you intended. “please don’t come in.”

wooyoung chuckled underneath you, soaking in the sight of your nervous self trying to mute your cries as your tits bounced right on his face. he could die right there and then and he’d be happy. “what’s wrong, baby? can’t take it?” he whispered as he gazed directly into your tightly scrunched eyes, your partially open mouth releasing nothing more but silent cries and pleas.

“fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” you hushed soundlessly, yet willingly bouncing up and down his length. the low, manly giggle he uttered spun you. fuck, he had you wrapped up around his finger.

“oookay? uhm, do you know where my son is? is he there with you?”

he grinned. that shit-eating grin you hated so damn much appeared all across his face. “c’mon pretty, tell her the truth. tell her how good i’m fucking you, how good you’re taking my cock, hm?” he growled into your ear, his voice low and raspy, sending shivers down your spine. the sound was intoxicating, clouding your thoughts and turning your mind into mush.

your throbbing walls clenched around him subconsciously, his head rocking back in reaction. “he’s… he’s here with me, h-helping me like he said he would.”

wooyoung seemed utterly satisfied by your answer, his grin only spreading wider. “that’s my wife. so beautiful.”

“perfect then! i’ll see you in a bit then.” after those words, no other sound was heard — other than the wet clapping of your flesh against his hips.

“‘s she gone?” your half-lidded eyes stared down at your husband, who was hugging you by the waist, face deeply buried in your bobbing, soft tits. your hands flew to the back of his head, cupping his neck whilst caressing his raven hair fondly. at your words, his head lifted, and took a glance at your divine expression.

“baby, i didn’t care, not even a second, if she was hearing or not.” his intoxicating, dark irises sent love letters to yours, utterly drunk in love. “i jus’ wanna cum inside your sweet pussy.”

skillful fingers crept to your hardened, overstimulated nipples and all the way down where your bodies collided, positioning right on your clit. his left hand stroked your firm nipple and played with one breast, letting wooyoung’s tongue take care of the other whilst his right hand shifted rapidly over your bundle of nerves.

he fell in love with you again as he saw your back arching into a perfect crescent moon. “good girl.” your loud whines and moans only encouraged him to keep going. “so responsive to me.” he exhaled breathlessly. “fuck, are you about to cum, baby?”

“y-yeah, fuck— woo, i-i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna fucking cum” you yelped as your bounces became sloppier, more desperate and more reckless. wooyoung motivated you by whispering sweet things and heart-melting praises right into your ear.

“cum, baby. cum for me, milk me dry.” and with one last bounce, you sprayed your juices all over him, soaking his pants and white shirt even more.

exasperated grunts and exhales left your husband’s mouth at the sensation of your folds clamping down on him — you definitely understood the assignment of milking him dry. ‘cause your pussy received the hot ropes of cum that his dick spurted out with great pleasure, sucking the life out of his poor, now softened length.

you crumbled down on him, your weakened core landing on top of him with his dick still inside you. your head found home in the crook of his neck as his hand reached to your back, wrapping your waist safely whilst the other provided soothing ministrations to your face. with your last ounce of strength, you pulled the sheets over your naked bodies, an even warming sensation drowning the both of you.

“fuck” was all you could mutter. “how’re we going to get back there, they’re waiting for us.”

wooyoung hummed thoughtfully, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and brushing against your skin. “we could pretend we fell asleep. with that, they shouldn’t suspect a thing.”

“hey that’s actually a great id—“

the door creaked open and your bodies jerked softly. the both of you knew exactly what to do, so your eyes flew shut. wooyoung even started snoring quietly to add a spec of realism to the scene.

the sound of your mothers’ voice echoed through your ears. “she said wooyoung was helping… her” wooyoung’s mom immediately lowered her voice as she took in the scene. an almost soundless aww escaped your mom’s lips.

“well sure he was helping her.” your mother sighed at the wholesome moment she had the luck of appreciating.

“i think he was massaging her. ‘cause when i knocked on the door, i could hear like— muffled sounds, that seemed like moans.” she stated, and you froze in place — well, not like you could move an inch. “at first i was confused, but then she clarified that wooyoung-ah was helping her “like he said he would”” she remarked your words as if she had studied them.

“oh i see.” your mother spoke. “i think we should let them sleep. my poor yn had a long day.”

and with that, the door shut closed with a soft click.

wooyoung giggled under the covers as your face burned from the embarrassment.

“massaging? well, that’s a way to put it.”

“wooyoung, babe, as much as i love you, please shut the fuck up.”

he laughed wholeheartedly, a gut-wrenching sound that never fails to make you smile. “you embarrassed, my love?”

you slapped your open palm against his exposed chest as you whined. “stoppp.”

his small, soft giggle buzzed inside your eardrums before he left on the top of your head a kiss full of fondness and affection. “cutie.”

| masterlist

[gremlingottoosilly]

Wifey!Reader who's always too tired for sex X Mafia!König

Konig wonders what the hell get you so tired all of the time. He is the head of the most famous mafia family in the city, he literally has daily executions of the enemies lined up as a bucket list, but he still gets home and has the energy to fuck his precious stay-at-home wife...only that the wife doesn't have energy for him. Now, we all know the jokes about mafia bosses and their wives fucking hot bodyguards and rookies from the gang, but Konig knows you're faithful - the cameras and tracking devices are prooving your loyalty, as you never have as much as a maid interacts with you throughout the day. You're just...tired. Exhausted. He got you the best doctors his money could buy, and his answer was to leave you to rest and hope that the lavish lifestyle of a stay-at-home mafia wife is going to somehow enhance your libido and ability to last under your husband. It's no secret that Konig is big - sometimes you want to initiate sex, but you get tired even thinking about all the prep you will need to have...you just go thank you, but no thank you - and you really, really want to be the best girl out here for him, but sometimes you fall asleep during the foreplay and he kinda has to respectfully lay you on the giant bed and go and blow the brains of one of the guys in a torture chamber. Konig won't hesitate to force you after some time, however. He wants you to make love to him, and soon enough, no excuses of you being too tired are going to work. He will have you spread your legs for his even if this is the last thing you're going to do - and no, you won't get to say in this, unfortunately. Konig is forceful and aggressive and you feel sore as he pounds into you, speaking of how much he missed the feeling of your cunt clinging to him...god, he fucking adores you. Too bad that a pretty thing like you thinks that you can just ignore his manly needs... He often makes you cockwarm him in case you're too tired for a regular sex - he likes the feeling of your pussy squeezing him and your body sitting lightly on his lap, so he would do his best to not fuck you too roughly while you're sitting on him, your head pressed on his chest like you're a small, precious little animal. God, you're fucking adorable - and even if some of his crooks are entering to ask whatever the hell boss was doing, Konig won't allow anyone to make you too embarrassed to cockwarm him.

[astralis-ortus]

guess i missed you too much

✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader

— that's what being in love does to you.

w.count → 1.2k genre → fluff warning → reader referred to as baby and my love, 2 (two) chatroom screenshots a.n → based on this request! ngl i was like '!!!' as soon as i read the request bc i can just imagine how it would go i'm—ㅠㅠㅠ also, i have an announcement here about requests, commissions, and fanart shop—i would really appreciate it if you'd check it and help a girl out♡ ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist

to put it simply, chan is dumbfounded.

he's pretty sure he had mentioned to both han and changbin that you're coming here, to seoul, in a exactly week and chan needs to have all the urgent project revisions to be done prior to your arrival. he's absolutely sure the two promised they will only be gone for a little while to get some coffee to wake them up, and chan is now certain that the two are definitely not only heading out to grab those goddamn coffee.

"if you two aren't back here in 5, just know this is your one and only warning," chan muttered through gritted teeth, trying his best not to sound too pissed before sending the voicenote in their '3racha only' groupchat.

it's not that chan didn't understand—he knows he's been pushing both changbin and han more than he usually does, and chan is very much aware that the duo are bound to be a bit more rebellious than usual once they reach their point of exhaustion, but he really is looking forward to the time he's about to spend with you, and he's not about to let anything come and ruin that.

it's been a while since you've last spent a considerable amount of time together with chan. sure, there are stolen dates here and there whenever a holiday would match up and you could take some time off to visit chan's version of paradise (which is unironically everywhere within the bounds of japan) together, but those visits always ends as quickly as it starts and left the two of you with a longer list of regrets by the time you had to let your hands slip away from chan' warmth.

so this time, when you finally were able put your responsibilities on rest for two whole weeks, it didn't take much of a convincing for either you or chan to finalize the dates when you would finally be able to be within each other's reach. chan even went the extra mile to immediately book your flight coming in, though you had to basically threaten him with no video calls for a week if he went through with his other plans to spoil you rotten.

well, you could only hope that chan won't pull any uno reverse card on you once this plan came to an end.

a bell sound from his phone quickly distracts chan from the lines of lyrics he's trying to edit—an action he came to regret when the notification in view were merely a singular line of emojis sent by changbin, consisting of the same teasing faces and a pink ribbon both changbin and han been sending chan for days now on end.

"oh, he's done," chan groaned, head tilted back in annoyance as he threw his poor beanie back at the sofa where changbin was supposed to be seated right now. to be frank, chan didn't understand what changbin has been implying with the string of emojis at all. presumably changbin and han had seen the way chan saved your kakao talk profile—hence the pink ribbon, but why now? exactly when chan's the most sensitive of the topic? the fact that chan couldn't contact you drives him even crazier—you had told him you haven't been feeling well and you'd text him again once you feel better, but that was like, what, an eternity ago? chan didn't want the risk of waking you up either especially with your trip coming up, so…

he's basically helpless.

another set of annoyed groan became chan's initial response when his phone came alive with a new notification. reluctantly grabbing the device, chan was mentally prepared for a text bubble sent by the youngest of the three, containing of the same string of emojis changbin had just sent—only for his heart to jump out of his chest when he saw the pink ribbon next to your name.

before chan could type another reply, his attention were robbed by the knocks on his studio door—which is a little weird considering neither han or changbin would bother, and the fact that it's nearly midnight meant that almost no one that chan knows of should be looking for him around this time of night.

"manager hyung?" chan cautiously called out, instinctively grabbing his discarded beanie before he went to reach for the door. "did you leave something? or are you—"

the words on chan's tongue dissipates soon after the door swung open—but even with the way his eyes just doubled in size, chan still couldn't believe what he's currently seeing right in front of him now.

"hi, my channie," you finally spoke, a wide grin decorating your lightly flushed face from all the adrenaline you've been feeling; and only then, chan seems to wake up from his trance.

"wha—baby?" chan could hear how voice had skipped an octave higher, but he couldn't care less—did he fell asleep? is this a dream? chan had to pinch himself before he even pulled you in his arms, tightly wrapping the giggling mess that you are in his warmth. "you're actually here? wasn't your flight next week? did i got the dates wrong? how—"

"whoa whoa, calm down there, racer," you quickly stopped your boyfriend's wild train of questions, still with your smile plastered across the span of your face—your plan is a massive success.

"it was supposed to be next week," you confirmed, eyes still taking in chan's perplexed face while your brain etched the memory in its hall of fame, "but i miss my boyfriend too much to wait another week, so… i asked for bin and jisung's help to change my plane ticket!"

suddenly, everything that's been happening to chan in the past week just clicked—the time he caught changbin and han meddling with his laptop, the nervous chuckles, the way they become way to secretive with their phones, the phone calls, and those lines of goddamn emojis. it all finally makes sense.

"is that so?" chan shook his head despite the clear view of his dimpled smile, arms tightening around your waist, "so you three little naughty being has been cooking up plans behind my back, that's what you're saying?"

the sound of your sweet laugh fills chan with an overwhelming sense of warmth— you might spend the majority of your year apart from each other, but for chan, it's moment like this that makes all the dark nights of longing seem worth to be worth his patience.

after all, you're everthing chan ever wanted in his life.

"my my," clicking his tongue in faux disappointment, chan gently fixed the strands of hair falling over your eyes—ones ever so tender whenever you fixed your gaze on him, "what am i gonna do with you, hm? you naughty little baby?"

"not sure," you cheekily replied, lightly scrunching your nose the way chan usually does. you're just happy that you're finally in chan's arms again, to hell with any of the 'repercussions' chan might be building in his head for your little misdemeanor.

"but can you kiss me first?" you continued, trying your best to stay nonchalant despite the sudden spike of your heartbeat due to your own silly attempt at being witty and chan's surprised laugh, "i think i need my boyfriend's kiss so i could face my punishments later."

frankly, chan's head is still plagued with tons after tons of questions of your little successful stunt—he can't help it, you're someone he love and cares about after all,

but who is he to deny your sweet little plea?

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[stealingyourbones]

Danny, being a halfa, falls under the strange category of people who can converse with the dead and act in their names. Most mediums simply convey messages. It was rare for someone to be able to fulfill a ghost’s dying request and have that act tied to the ghost’s core.

Honestly it’s annoying.

He doesn’t get any alone time anymore for homework or hobbies. The dead are constantly pestering Danny to help with their desires - which, sure, it helps them move on which means they’re out of Danny’s hair, but come on!! Give a guy a break! Just because he doesn’t need as much sleep as a fully living person doesn’t mean he can go without entirely!

“No Scott,” Danny repeated for the fifth time, “I am not flying to California tonight. Do you know how far that is? Literally the other coast of this massive continent. Meet me there in August like everyone else on the list.”

Spending the first spring break of college creating a map and calendar for Last Rites was not something Danny expected when he moved to Gotham.

Why did this city have so many ghosts?! It was ridiculous. And he thought Amity Park was bad? At least the ghosts here were mostly Shades. Not visible to anyone unless they were also dead-adjacent or had The Sight or a bloodline curse or a magical amulet… you know what? There were enough of those in this curse ridden city, why couldn’t these ghosts go find one of those people instead? Danny was exhausted.

So exhausted he didn’t notice the vigilante dropping down from the rooftop.

“Hey there kid, you alri-”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny waved a hand dismissively at the voice without looking up. “Wait in line like everyone else. But honestly you’d be better off coming back tomorrow when I’ve had some sleep.”

“Think maybe you outta get started on that sleep now, bud?” the voice behind him spoke in a calm careful tone.

One Danny had heard all too often since dying.

His head jerked sideways to stare wide-eyed at Nightwing, who tensed just a little as if expecting Danny to run or fight. Instead he let out a groan and slumped onto the park bench, rubbing his eyes to ease the burn of fatigue. He’d been coming out to this park at the corner of campus each night to keep the Shades from mobbing him all day long in classes, but they’d spread the word around Gotham that he was here and his precious spring break had become a non-stop line of requests and arguments. Made sense he’d caught the attention of one of the Bats. Should have expected it sooner.

Danny ignored all the voices around him and looked at Nightwing directly as he prattled off his usual list when someone caught him talking to thin air.

“No, I’m not hallucinating. I got all my Rogue Gallery immunizations the day I checked onto campus. I’m not schizophrenic. The only meds I take are for adhd and the occasional Tylenol. I’m not a danger to myself or others. Unless they attack me first.”

Nightwing nodded along, but tilted his head at the end.

“I’m talking to the dead,” Danny answered the unspoken question in a tired monotone, waiting for the usual skepticism or plea for help with lost loved ones.

“Oh. Okay then.”

“What?” That wasn’t expected.

“No yeah, that makes sense.”

Danny was sure his jaw was on the ground. “You… you believe me?”

“Well sure,” the hero shrugged and chuckled. “I can’t see ghosts myself but I know a couple magicians who work with one, and my little brother Robin has a ghost on his team - she’s actually visible most of the time so I don’t know if that’s a special skill or something else going on. But I’m glad you’re okay and don’t need any emergency medication. I know a couple 24 hour pharmacies that would help but it’s nice when they’re not needed. We don’t get a lot of mediums around Gotham holding court at night so you really can’t fault me for checking in.”

Danny was still floating in the relief of not being questioned or doubted. That hadn’t happened since Jazz found out his secret. She’d had plenty of questions about his halfa status, of course, but never called him crazy for talking to things others couldn’t see. Even Sam and Tucker would forget sometimes and give him strange looks before realizing he was dealing with a Shade, Wisp, or Memory.

He didn’t realize he was wobbling until Nightwing’s arms shot out to stabilize him.

Danny blinked up at the pretty face that was trying not to chuckle, held by strong arms, and so far past tired he might be getting delirious after all because his brain seemed to have lost its filter and he said out loud,

“You actually believe me. I think I love you.”

Then the horrifying embarrassment hit at the same time as Nightwing’s laughter. Which… sounded delighted rather than mean spirited?

“Well now it’s your turn to wait in line, cuz that’s the fourth confession I’ve had this week!” They both devolved into snorts and giggles, Danny still relying on those arms for balance, but when they’d caught their breath the vigilante said, “Come on, you’ve really got to get some sleep. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

Ignoring the whispers and grumbles of the Shades was easier with someone walking beside him.

This is so incredibly cute oml. It’s so rare to see the bats actually go with the flow and god it isn’t done enough. 12/10 immaculate, glorious.

The entire plot I can see so clearly in my mind dude:

Danny chatting to Nightwing as they walk to his dorm

Nightwing asking some casual questions about ghosts and Danny asking about vigilante work.

Nightwing informs the Bats of Danny as he might be a valuable asset in the future.

Nightwing helps free shades with Danny and he realizes why Danny is so incredibly tired all the time.

Nightwing managing to stumble into Danny every day of his break, slowly getting to know each other more and more and becoming really good friends (perhaps lovers 👀).

Wonderful stuff man ty for the ask!

[rawan-soso]

As the adults struggle to find food and keep a roof over everyone’s heads, the children of northern Gaza also have their own struggles. Their mental health is in a horrible state.

I hesitated to talk about this. I don’t want people to think we have so many donations that we can afford to buy my sister toys. It’s not that we can afford it. It’s just that sometimes we have to skip a meal to buy something for her because the boredom is making her even more depressed. She has severe trauma, she has seen bombs dismember people, she has escaped multiple massacres with us. But now the other kids in the building keep breaking her toys while playing and we can't buy a new one immediately, because there are more urgent things. The cheapest thing in northern Gaza right now is makeup, because no one needs it, so I bought some. I apply it on myself and Soso to make her happy, but I don’t always have the energy or time to play with her. I’m exhausted, sick and malnourished, and I still have to do chores and spend hours at the market looking for the most affordable food, clothes, and hopefully medicine.

We have many expenses that we don’t talk about because people won’t see them as vital. Phone chargers (only used ones that die fast, because new ones are insanely expensive). A fee for the neighbors who have the internet router. Phone bills and data. Toys for the children. School books and private tutors for students.

You’re right, it wouldn’t be vital if the war had only lasted for a week. But it’s been more than a year. Our children’s mental health is destroyed, especially children as young as Soso who is only 4 years old and whose brain is developing in a genocide. Students can’t just stop studying for all this time. My other sister missed her entire last year of high school, but she wants to take university entrance exams. Dropping out of university because of the war has killed everything in me. I can’t let her experience the same kind of loss, so I pay for her books, for paper and printing, for private tutoring classes.

I had to buy three phone chargers in a month. The first one was $70. Days later, it was $100. Two days ago, a neighbor fried the second charger, and the new one was $200. I cried that day, because it wasn't even my fault. The prices of everything keep going up and I feel like I’m going insane. Even our landlord tried to increase the rent. It’s okay if I sacrifice meals. I’m used to hunger. But I have three younger siblings and I can’t watch them lose even more than they already have. I want them to study and play. I want them to eat and stay warm.

Please help me. When all of this is over, I’ll get my degree, find a good job, and I’ll never ask for anything again. But as long as the war keeps going, I need your help. I promise your donations don’t go to waste. Food and rent will always be the priority. Soso and my grandmother are the first beneficiaries. We always think carefully before buying anything. I hope we can reach the final goal soon, and that it will cover all expenses until the war ends, because I’m so tired of relying on strangers. I hate asking for money. I’m eternally grateful to anyone who helps, but the guilt won’t fade, because I wanted to be an independent girl and help my family myself. I'm exhausted and depressed.

My campaign is vetted! ✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #347 )✅️

Forgive me, you shared before and it helped a lot so I ask you to please share again @kerosene-saint @andnowanowl @omegasmileyface @4c-aperture @bahrmp3 @dhmiss55-blog @woodesnake @original-character-chaos @revalentinee @rapogirl13 @gorillawithautism @xerxestexastoast @kyoukainokanata @rabiesrabiesdog @rainyrebloggin @ok1237 @isummonedadragon @pro-pin-prinny @boxheadpaint @rukafais @butcklinkle @earlysunsetting @ceeberoni @strangeauthor @the–pony-box @blurrycow @nabulsi @90-ghost

[noxiwrites]

Forbidden

Synopsis ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

The new teaching assistant is too hot for his own good, distracting most of the girls in your class. You’re not too bothered by him, he’s just another pretty face- until you get pulled by him for failing the class. It’s every girls wet dream, getting taught by the hot new teacher- and you find yourself slowly falling into a sickly sweet situation.

Warnings ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

Age gap, inappropriate touching, arguments, angst, eventual smut, obsession, hidden relationship, public sex.

Word count ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

2.3k

Add yourself to my tag list | Masterlist

I II III IV V

Chatter mulls through the room as you sit quietly at your desk, reviewing some of the content for the final year of your class here. You can tell everyone is excited, the final year of this four year course upon you.

You, on the other hand, were less excited. The pressure of the material was very demanding already and you just wanted to get on top of it, keep it down to a minimum so it wouldn’t collapse your entire life.

A door opens at the back of the classroom and the chatter is suddenly gone, a stiff silence falling over the rest of your classmates as they take in someone who is definitely not your teacher, stood at the desk at the front of the class.

Immediately, you hear the hustles of chatter from all the girls in class as they take in the very obviously handsome man stood waiting. He grins, looking around the room and soaking up the attention. You roll your eyes and scoff, not bothered by his pretty face as you look down to review the material for what felt like the ten millionth time.

“Okay guys, enough chatter, let’s get started,” his voice scratches at the back of your brain, something about the way he sounds making you turn all mushy.

“So, you’re probably wondering where Dr.Mendez is, right?” A murmur of agreement washes the room and you glance upward, watching as his hands clasp around a book, stance all flexed as he leans against the edge of the desk. You can see him scanning the room and your eyes meet for a second, him flashing you a brief smile before you’re looking back down, again.

He’s hot. He’s making you all flustered, no doubt like all the other girls in the class- and it frustrated you. You’re just here to learn.

“Well he’s swamped with other classes this year so I’m stepping in to teach, you’re stuck with me,” you can hear the smugness in his tone, basking in the attention from the girls fawning over him.

“I’ll die a happy woman stuck with you, sir,” a whiny voice giggles from behind you and you already know it’s Kendra, a self centered bitch who has done nothing but make your life living hell while being in this class.

He laughs, thanking her, before moving on. You look up again, watching him as he strides around the desk to take a seat on the front of it and opening the book in his hands.

“I’m Rafe by the way. I’d prefer if you guys just called me that,” he looks around the room, thumbing the page he’s currently on as he takes in the entire class. Again, your eyes meet and he smiles again, something you don’t return as you expectantly wait for him to move on with the class.

“Right, so, I’ve been filled in on what you guys have been learning for the past three years, and this is your last year, yeah? Very important.” A chorus of further murmurs flow from the class and Rafe, now you know his name, nods. He slaps his knee, standing as he walks back to his laptop, clicking some buttons before it connects to the large projector.

“I won’t keep you waiting then, let’s get started shall we?”

By the end of the three hour class, you’re exhausted. You’re so ready to climb into your car and get home, climb into bed and have a fat nap. As usual, you’re one of the last to leave class, hating getting caught in the throngs of people all leaving with the same goal as you.

Kendra and her cronies are stood talking to Rafe at his desk as she giggles and twirls her hair around her finger about something he’s saying, and you roll your eyes as you shove your book bag further onto your shoulder and descend the steps down the the bottom of the class.

It really makes you want to scoff, how fucking sleazy she is- really, the guy has just started to teach the class and she’s already trying to get her claws into him. You wonder, sometimes, how she managed to get into an advanced class, but then you remember she was born into money, her perfectly bleached blonde hair and always perfectly manicured nails reminding you of that.

“See you later,” you hear Rafe say and you turn, to see his focus completely on you instead of Kendra. Her scowl could kill if it were possible, mad that his attention is on you rather than her. You smile and nod, waving goodbye before rushing for the door and leaving.

It’s cold out in the parking lot, and you regret parking your car at the far side this morning when you were in a better mood. You’re thankful, however, that this is your only class today and you can just go home and sleep.

The drive to your apartment only takes fifteen minutes, traffic light as a slight drizzle begins to fall on your windscreen, rolling your window down to scan your badge to get into your estate gate.

Your cat greets you through the window of your ground flat as you pull into the parking spot in front of it, turning the engine off and grabbing your stuff before rushing to the door, leaving down to greet whiskers as you close the door.

“Let’s go to bed, eh?” You ask, and he purrs, following you down the hall. When you’re finally relaxed in bed, you find yourself thinking of the new teaching assistant, wondering if he knows what he’s signed himself up for.

“Good morning guys, we ready to start?” Rafe asks the room, cup of something steamy in his left hand. You can hear Kendra giggle from behind you and you just know she’s twirling her hair in her fingers, which makes you sigh.

Today, your friend, Molly, had decided to turn up. You’re grateful, telling her about yesterdays events in a hushed tone as her eyes grow wider the further you tell.

You drop your eyes down to Rafe to see him setting up his PowerPoint again, clicking away on his keyboard.

“Yeah and he literally said goodbye to me, and she was all like grrrr and scowley like? I didn’t do anything,” you tell her, Molly flashing a frown over her shoulder to signify her displeasure. She hates Kendra just as much as the next person.

“To be fair, he is very attractive. I’d be mad if I put that much into my appearance and you stole his attention just like that,” she snaps her fingers to give you an idea of what she means and you blush. You definitely didn’t steal his attention, he was just saying goodbye. Right?

You both fall into silence as Rafe begins talking to the class about different formulas, all the basic stuff that you noticed at the beginning of the content paper. This class is shorter, only being an hour and a half, before you’ve got another class in the afternoon with another teacher.

As you work through the slides, you find yourself glancing at Rafe more and more. You had to give it to him, he was very attractive. Buzzed hair, sharp jawline and sparkly eyes that everytime they looked into your own, sent you dizzy.

Alas, he was your teacher. It begged the question in the back of your head of how old he was, because he didn’t look much older than you to be honest. The slides soon come to an end, Rafe clapping his hands as he thanked everyone for turning up today. Everyone grapples to leave, Kendra hanging by his desk as he lazily entertains her while typing away on his computer.

You bid Molly goodbye as she rushes off out the door, desperate to see her boyfriend before he goes to his next class, leaving you to pack your things as you earwig on what Kendra is saying.

“I think I could do with some extra tutoring, Rafe,” she twirls her hair around her finger again, eyes blazing down at him. Rafe grins, laughing up at her before going back to his computer.

“You’re fine Kendra, I reviewed your papers from last year. No tutoring needed,” you can practically hear the sarcasm from here, and you’re sure Kendra is one more comment away from bursting into tears and ringing her father because the teacher won’t fuck her.

“Oh, okay. If you say so Rafe, but I’m always free,” she scrapes her fingers along his desk, and act that makes you wince as you walk down the steps.

“See you next week, Rafe,” she drawls, before throwing you a scowl, leaving the classroom. You’re about to follow, not wanting to stop and chat, but Rafe does so anyway.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to speak to you, actually,”

You turn on the spot, swallowing despite suddenly having a dry mouth. You walk back, standing in front of his desk as he closes his laptop and smiles up at you.

“I uh, had a look at your papers from last year,” he begins, but you can’t help your mind from racing already.

“What? I’m not doing anything wrong am I?” You ask, words rushing out of your mouth like you’re spewing.

Rafe shakes his head, eyes never leaving yours. “No, no. I just think you’re lacking some certain aspects that could definitely help you be the top of the class,”

You breathe out, not realising you weren’t breathing at all. He grins, lazily, as he begins to toy with the edge of one of the books on his desk.

“I think I can help you be the best. I’d like to tutor you, if you’d like the help. You can say no and still pass the class but I think the extra help will get you to the top,” he concludes, fingers dancing along the edge of the book.

“I uh, I don’t know. I don’t think that’s very fair one other students,” you quip, pushing your bag up your shoulder. As you do, your skirt pulls up your legs a bit more and you see the brief second his eyes flicker down, before looking back up at you and gulping.

“I can see that, yes. I just think you have the most potential,” you eyes wander back down to his hand, now playing with the edge of the book, other moving up to rest under his chin.

He has nice hands, you think, and immediately want to slap yourself. He’s your teacher.

“Uh, thank you?” It comes out as more of a question and Rafe laughs, circling the edge of the book. You have to pry your eyes away from it.

“You can think. Let me know next Monday, after class. Have the rest of the week.” You nod meekly, smiling lightly at him as you bid him goodbye, heading for the door.

“Oh, and before I forget, make sure you read up on pages one hundred to one hundred and sixty for next week. I know you like to get ahead.”

“You’re going to say yes, right? I mean it’s a no brainer,” she continues, rambling. Truth is, the more you’ve thought about it, the more appealing it sounds. You’d love to be top of the class, make your dad proud, and rub it in Kendras face, like a reminder that money can’t buy grades.

“Like imagine? What if he tries to make a move on you, I mean look at you? Why would he not? Oh my god, this is perfect,” she almost yells, before taking a sip of her wine. You’d not actually thought about that part of it, choosing to mostly ignore it.

But then, if that were his motive, who would he ask you and not Kendra? She was the better option for something like that. You would like to think that it wasn’t one of those deals, that he actually wanted to help you, and that was the part that was convincing you.

“I think I’m gonna say yes, but just for the tutoring, I wanna get better grades,” you tell her, taking a sip of your own glass of wine. Whiskers jumps down from the windowsill next to you, fawning around in your lap before collapsing down and falling asleep. You scratch his head, looking over at your friend who wiggles her eyebrows at you.

“But you wouldn’t turn him down if he made a move, no?”

“I don’t know Mol, he’s just another pretty face to me,” you say, looking over at the tv. You were trying to watch twilight, until you got distracted by rambling Molly who only comes out after some wine.

“Cmon, he’s so totally into you! Turning down Kendra to then offer the exact same thing to you,” she declares, pushing your shoulder back. You have to admit, there may be some truth in her statement, because why would he do that for you but not her?

“I just hope I actually get taught what I’m missing,” you say, causing Molly to roll her eyes. “You’re not missing anything, you’re already one of the top in the class, he just likessss you,” she drawls the likes, making you giggle at her as you bite the edge of your wine glass, contemplating the pros and cons of letting Rafe be your tutor.

You’re going to do it.

Note ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ Hello!! First series I’m actually excited to write ! Teacher Rafe is just 🤩 much love, let me know what you think <3

Check out a teaser for a new series here <3

[cheralith]

wish you well — 「 celebrity!gojo x manager!reader (drabble & headcanons 」

synopsis ; after being one of the nation's most well-loved celebrity's manager for nine years, it's time to call it quits. said celebrity, however, doesn't take it too well.

content tags/warnings ; gn!reader, no pronouns for reader used, mild angst, some parts not edited/not beta read

contains ; celebrity!au, a-list actor!gojo satoru, manager!reader, no powers au

notes ; plot inspired by "what's wrong with secretary kim" after my nth rewatch haha

now playing ; i wish you love - nancy wilson

Everyone goes to lean forward in their seats, gripping the edge of it as the music that’s singing from the movie theatre’s speakers suddenly stops, letting the sound effects of rain pebble through instead. The screen displays a running, drenched man in the rain of a lonesome road in the middle of the countryside, his crystal blue eyes hazy with a brim of tears balancing in them as he huffs and puffs, the exhaustion within him visible. The camera cuts to a woman seated safely under a bus stop as the rain pours down with the same view of a descending countryside town still blurred in the distance. She grips the handle of her suitcase as her head goes to gaze solemnly at her shoes. 

A bus goes to a screeching halt, only the tender wheel of it visible as the woman’s gaze is still stuck on the floor before she looks up to see the bus doors opening before her. The running man appears before the screen, desperation clear on his face before the camera slowly turns towards the bus stop the formerly-sitting woman is now standing under. 

“Loretta! Don’t you dare get on that bus!”  the man yells out, earning the woman’s attention.

The woman widens her pale green eyes at the sight of him breaking out into a sprint. She swallows a nervous gulp, too frozen to move from her spot until the man enters under the shelter of the bus stop. His chest engraved with the lining of visible muscles are evident through his pale blue button-down that’s slicked with water and the sight earns a couple of lip bites from women in the theatre. 

The woman stammers, “Y-you know I need to do this…”

“No you don’t,” the man mutters, the camera panning to show his eyes holding desperation and a slight flicker of anger. “Your father wants you to do this, but I know you. I know you don’t want to.”

“But it’s my duty, Vincent—”

“Don’t give me that ‘duty’ shit!” The man shakes his head, letting droplets of water fling all over. “Loretta, please… just stay here with me,” he pleads, holding her face in his hands and forcing the woman to look up at him as his thumbs wipe away her tears that grab onto mascara. “We can stay here… get a house together… build a family… die old together like you said we would. You’re not gonna break your promise, are you?”

“Vincent, that was when we were six!” the woman exclaims sadly, “Don’t tell me you’re still hanging onto that.”

“I’m not hanging onto that promise,” he whispers, pulling her face closer to his. 

The instrumental of a music track begins to play softly in the background, obvious tension rising to the surface in the theatre as the scene continues. A couple of hands shovel into large popcorn buckets and without thinking, shove the popcorn into their salivating mouths. Nails dig into the palms of hands as some chew on them out of anticipation. Eyes wide and unblinking, they give their full attention to the screen.

“Say the line…” whispers one person.

The man tenderly kisses her in a short, but passionate kiss, letting her release from him with a dreamy sigh. 

“I’m holding on to you,” he murmurs ever so softly. 

Compared to the quietness of the man on the screen, the theatre goes absolutely crazy. Shouts and cheers ring through the air as numerous rounds of applause go to harmonize with them. 

The scene in the movie finalizes with Loretta finally swallowing her pride and nodding to Vincent’s agreement, sealing the movie with a kiss that lasts until the screen slowly fades to black. 

“Annnd… that’s a wrap,” the director of the movie jokes as he stands up from his seat. He earns a few laughs from the cast and the crew of the movie. The theatre begins to light up once more and gives a clear view of everyone, including the section that holds the main cast up near the back. “I’d like to give one last thank you to Satoru Gojo and Yuki Tsukumo one last time for giving an amazing performance and dedicating their time for the past year and a half. Thank you both ever so dearly.”

Satoru Gojo, also known as Vincent, goes to stand up with his co-star, also known as Loretta, and they give a synchronized bow to the people in the theatre as the premier for his latest movie finally draws the curtains from behind the audience. “Thank you for directing another outstanding movie. I truly do look forward to working with you again in the future,” he gives another dazzling smile as he and Yuki elegantly walk down the stairs together. They say their final goodbyes as co-stars and depart to opposite sides of the theatre where they’re greeted with their teams. 

You go to hand him his coat you’ve been hanging on to for the past ninety minutes, the scent of cologne finally fading after a suffocating hour and a half. Glancing at the director who heartily laughs with some of the editors of the movie, you let out a light chuckle. 

“Hm? What’s so funny?” Satoru inquires as he shoves on his coat. 

“You’re such a liar,” you say, shrugging as you and him exit the movie’s premiere together, some of the actor’s team following shortly after, conversing with another about how spectacular the movie was. “You’d rather throw yourself off a cliff than work with that guy again.”

Without looking at you, Satoru grins ahead. “You know me so well.”

Ijichi, the chauffeur, is waiting patiently outside the venue despite the winter cold. When he sights the many delighted smiles and laughter, he asks, “I take it the premiere went well?” 

“Very,” you nod, getting into the car to enjoy its warmth.

The car ride is nothing out of the usual, just quiet jazz playing in the background and the city lights glimmer from above. 

“Oh, what’s the agenda for tomorrow by the way?” Satoru asks, his gaze turning from the window to you, who still is focused on the tablet that checks off today’s draining tasks for the celebrity. 

Photoshoot for Ray Ban… done. Look over next month’s plans for Season Two of Jujutsu Kaisen… done. Suit fitting for movie premiere… done. Movie premiere… done!

“(Y/N)~” Satoru calls again but dragging the last syllable of your name and snapping his fingers in front of you to capture your attention. He chuckles when you jolt in your seat. 

“Sorry,” you mutter before swiping to tomorrow’s agenda. “Alright, nothing too big. You just gotta sign that contract that you’ll be the spokesperson for Chaumet, then right after, you have an Elle interview regarding the movie. Then, you’ll have a final dinner with the entire cast and that’s it for the week.”

Satoru nods in approval and obviously ready to take on tomorrow’s attacks. Only three things? He can handle that with ease. If anything, it’s been less of a load to bring on from the recent events that had been happening as of lately. His feet could really use a break from walking over so many red carpets. 

The road begins to lead down a familiar path as you realize you pass the local family diner, your apartment’s entrance shortly coming to view. Ijichi slows to a stop and unlocks the door, letting you out. Before Satoru can say goodbye to his beloved manager, however, you stop the window from rolling up and lean down into the car again. 

“Oh, I forgot to say this earlier, but,” you pause, making sure his attention is all on you for this short, but possibly life-alternating moment. “You’re also meeting your new manager tomorrow, too. She’s really sweet and—”

Time freezes for a moment.

“Wait a minute,” Satoru furrows his brows and faces his body completely towards you, his countenance pulling the curtains to reveal a confused, serious expression that rarely appears on his face. “New manager…? What do you mean?”

The question comes out more as a demand. Breath hitching for a short moment, you release it and smile gently with the corners not letting your eyes curve. You had been anticipating this moment for the longest time now—around half a year of decision making and weighing the pros and cons, then three months deciding when the right time to break the news would be. But at this time, you’ve ran out of time and you’ve ultimately decided to push it towards the day before the deadline, something you almost never do. A little solemnly, you sigh out softly and finally declare the groundbreaking news to the A-list celebrity, your head still high.

“I’ll be quitting as your manager, soon.”

Actor!Gojo, who doesn't get a good night sleep after that abrupt statement, in which you barely gave him time to try and ask why on earth you're giving up the job that many people would kill for, only leaving him with a small wave and a subtle "goodnight." Your voice replayed in his head the entire night, the sentence resembling nails on a chalkboard the more he repeated it to himself—"I'll be quitting as your manager, soon."

Actor!Gojo, who thinks you have the nerve to put on a smile and greet him good morning the following sunrise as if nothing happened, as if you weren't breaking a bond of nearly nine years with him. Your words for today’s plans go in and out of his ears as Satoru wearily examines your appearance and movements in the kitchen that he almost never uses as he rounds up his thoughts that poisoned his head ever since you said that all-too-bold statement last night that shifted his entire world in the matter of seconds.

Actor!Gojo, who cuts you off mid-sentence, asking you sharply why you're quitting as his manager out of the blue, his usually-playful baby blue hues piercing right into you. He notices your smile faltering a bit, but never completely dissipating, though it comes severely close to doing so when you tell him why.

Actor!Gojo, who listens much too intently for his liking when he hears you out, a feat he rarely does. "The past nine years have been wonderful, don't get me wrong," you murmur as you slather on a sugary marmalade on his toast. "But I don't think I'm really getting much out of life just being someone's manager."

Actor!Gojo, who pretends as if those last two words don't sting his chest. Someone's manager... as if he's not one of the most worshipped and celebrated A-list actors in the industry right now. But he supposes that's why he stuck by you, since you understood that he, too, was just a regular human being at the end of the day like the rest of humanity, even with his godlike good looks.

Actor!Gojo, whose mouth runs dry when you continue. "I don't want to be the side character to someone's story. I deserve to live fully too." you finish, pushing Gojo's plate of breakfast towards him before snacking on the leftovers. You stare at him, awaiting his response. You understand that despite you thinking over such a big decision for a few months, that it was better to rip off the bandaid and avoid any further complications by quitting unexpectedly, even though you knew Gojo better than anyone.

Actor!Gojo, who attempts to understand where you're coming from. Yes, he can get that maybe this life wasn't the most exciting, but then again, what other jobs out there are? At least with this one, you're guaranteed good—dare he say, great—pay and stability, along with experiencing second-hand what it's like to see all the glitz and glamour most of the population fiend for. It's thanks to him that you've been draped in designer clothes for premiers, that you've tried Michelin delicacies, that you've travelled the world. So... why ditch all of that for a more simple life? Aren't you content?

Actor!Gojo, whose mind flashes back to the moment where you stared a little too longingly at a lovesick couple in the window of a coffee shop, or when your eyes lingered on the engagement rings in a shop window that one day he had to get a suit tailored. He suddenly remembers the one dress rehearsal where he witnessed an extra asking for your number before you declined politely. He had asked you jokingly that you were blind to reject such a handsome guy (second to him, of course), only for you to reply you smiled gently at him and said you had no time to date.

Actor!Gojo, who suddenly blurts out without any restraint, and with a little more edge than expected, "What? D'you want to get married or something?"

Actor!Gojo, who regrets the sentence as soon as it escapes his lips. He swallows thickly and attempts to organize the right words for a proper apology. You stare blankly at him for a moment, and before Gojo can say anything, you nod. "Yeah. It's been a dream of mine to, actually..."

Actor!Gojo, who thinks his coffee tastes much bitter than usual, silently nods after a moment of awkward silence. You open your mouth first to try and cut it through, but he beats you to it. "I'm sure I could re-arrange some stuff in the schedule so you can get out there and meet someone. There's no need to quit." He ignores the weird pang in his chest the moment he says "someone."

Actor!Gojo, who frowns when you shake your head. You explain it would still be hard, as he'd remain your first priority despite it all. You mention that you've already submitted your resignation letter to his agency three weeks ago and that it's been processed, that it'll be your last two weeks as you being his manager and that you'll be saying goodbye to what had been nearly a decade of companionship with the celebrity.

Actor!Gojo, who flinches as the doorbell rings and watches miserably as you fetch the person at the door. She's a young girl, around the age when you first started as his manager, with choppy bangs and long blue hair, along with a bright and ready smile. You introduce her as his to-be manager, but Gojo can't shake off the thought of being greeted by her face in the morning and seeing her face as the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep instead of yours.

Actor!Gojo, who thinks this week is going much too fast for his liking. Despite essentially begging for the director of his latest TV show to give him some extra scenes to shoot, he was excused early with the rest of the crew after all the required scenes were shot nicely. Somehow, the brand deal commercial and meeting flew by much faster than usual, too. But despite it all, Gojo couldn't help his eyes constantly flickering to your figure whenever you were in his field of vision, even receiving multiple warnings from the director from the commercial to stop getting distracted.

Actor!Gojo, who finds his gaze lingering on a rather old picture of you and him, along with some blurry figures in the background. Nine years younger, both of you, with outdated fashion and makeup. He remembers you were just shy of being his manager for four months, when he was still trying to break out of the shell of being a nepotism baby and attempting to create a name for himself. Gojo prided himself on his independence, but he'd be fooling himself if he didn't give a hefty amount of credit of his success to you. After all, you were the one that was in charge of his many brand deals and were the one that landed him roles that granted him film awards.

Actor!Gojo, who can't find the right words to say during the drives home, hating how the air is always thick whenever you were alone with him. He doesn't think he can get used to not pulling up to your apartment when the night comes to an end before going to his, despite your affirmations that him and Miwa would get along great. He murmurs a good night to you, not facing you despite watching your reflection intently in the window, but before you wish him a good evening, you say something that forces him to face you.

"I have... a dinner reservation with someone at 6:30 p.m., so I'll be leaving early tomorrow."

Gojo blinks. "Is that implying you have a date?"

"I..." you swallow anticipatingly. "I suppose you could say that."

Actor!Gojo, who feels the familiar pang of his chest as the thought of someone else sharing a dinner with you, something you've been doing with him since the very beginning of his career. He can't even imagine a person, only some sort of foggy figure sitting across from you, sharing a shabby meal. He can tell you're waiting a response from him before you head into your apartment, and he wryly says, "That's great... Hope you have a good time or whatever..." before commanding the driver to drive off, not even waiting for another word from you.

Actor!Gojo, who drums his fingers with great boredom against the door's handle, fighting off the nuisance that was the city's insane traffic this evening. When he gazes out the window to find some other distraction other than his phone, however, he instantly finds himself drawn to a familiar figure being seated at the window a few stories up in the restaurant his car was stuck in front of. You're up there, dressed regally for another, giggling with them at something they said (something stupid, Gojo thinks to himself). Teeth grit against themselves when they feed you a small portion of their food with their fork, the indirect kiss making his eyes narrow.

Actor!Gojo, whose spontaneous anger suddenly dispels when he repeats your words from earlier that week.

"What? D'you want to get married or something?"

"Yeah. It's been a dream of mine to, actually..."

Gojo suddenly pauses and goes still for a while, thinking over something incredulous. He blinks repeatedly, before a grin etches on his face as his plan settles into his consciousness. Gojo may not give you anything you desire if you're just his mere manager...

... but if he were your husband, then that meant your dream would be fulfilled and you could stay at his side for what was essentially the rest of his life and give you anything you wanted. He'd never have to fret about you leaving his life ever again.

Satoru Gojo, you absolute Einstein... he compliments himself proudly in his mind. Letting out a confident huff as the car begins to drive on, he tells the driver to head on over to the nearest jewelry store before heading home.

a/n: hi sorry it's been a while! i was finishing up a semester at uni, so forgive my absence with this little weird hybrid ficlet of mine featuring the one and only

i hope you enjoyed and thank you for taking time out of your day to enjoy my writing! likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and are always appreciated (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ !!!

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

It's Like Supernatural (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: You didn’t believe in ghosts, so you naturally ignored the warnings that the house of your dreams was haunted. 

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Dirty talk, voyeurism, masturbation, ghost sex

A/N: This is a quick one-shot inspired by some behind the scenes looks at ghost!Agatha (the hottest ghost around, truly), my lifelong dream to own a house like the one in Practical Magic, as well as my endless love for Supernatural by Ariana Grande. I hope you enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think! :)

Tag-List: @mrsines @chiar4anna

When you heard the house you were interested in buying was haunted, you didn’t think much of it. Locals loved ghost stories, and you assumed this was just another tall tale to spook off tourists. 

Even if you believed in ghosts, which you didn’t, that wasn’t going to stop you from purchasing the home of your dreams. It was a beautiful Victorian house that was arguably far too large for just yourself, with three whole floors to decorate and make your own. There were sprawling gardens and even a large greenhouse already filled with a variety of plants you couldn’t even begin to name.

You wondered if the realtor had been tending to them.

It was perfect, and you couldn’t believe how cheap it was. The realtor seemed far too eager, and a bit surprised, when you settled on it, but you chalked it up to desperation to make a sale. 

When you had moved the majority of your belongings in, you decided it didn’t matter if this alleged ghost was real or not, absolutely nothing would ever make you want to leave. 

If only you knew how very wrong you were.

Things seemed normal, at first. The house was everything you dreamed it to be. From what you were able to get out of the very quiet realtor and even more closed off locals, the house had been abandoned since its last owner died. There wasn’t much information on her, but she apparently gained a rather interesting reputation, based on the horrified expressions on their faces whenever you asked about her.

Agatha Harkness. 

There was a portrait of her hanging above the fireplace in the library. It was one of the things that caught your eye the first time touring the property. She was beautiful, with wild dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes that almost seemed to follow you around the room. There was a locket around her neck that appeared to be a family heirloom, maybe. Her red lips were twisted upwards, forming an almost diabolical smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

Maybe there was a reason the locals all seemed to fear her.

Things changed a few weeks after you moved in. It wasn’t much, at first. You left your laptop on the kitchen counter one morning before leaving, and when you came back home that evening you found it on the dining room table. Maybe you moved it and didn’t remember, you decided as you started your dinner. It wouldn’t have been the first time. 

Only, things you placed around the house kept showing up elsewhere, and the more it happened the crazier you felt. You left a book in your bedroom and found it in your bathroom. The reading glasses you always kept in the sitting room wound up in the dining room. Clothes you swore you folded and set in your dresser were later found in a wrinkled heap in one of the spare guest rooms. 

It finally reached the point where you wondered if someone was breaking in, but surely an intruder would do more than just play little pranks on you. 

You didn’t even take the time to consider if the whispers and rumors of a ghost were real, you knew it was just your overactive imagination playing tricks on you. Work had been more stressful than usual, this was surely just a case of exhaustion. You most likely moved all of those items and couldn’t remember, that’s all.

It was around a month after you moved in when you decided to do some redecorating. You’d kept the majority of the paintings the previous owner, Agatha, had collected. They were interesting pieces, most of them seemed to be hundreds of years old. But there were a few you were looking to swap out, the portrait in the library included.

One rainy Saturday afternoon you grabbed a ladder, trudging into the library. Your eyes briefly flickered up at the portrait, and felt the strange sensation that the haunting blue eyes were watching you. Climbing up, you steadied yourself and made sure your feet were secure as you raised your arms, grasping onto the frame. Tugging lightly, you were perturbed when it didn’t budge.

Odd, but it did appear to be rather old, maybe it was stuck on one of the nails. Readjusting the position of your feet on the ladder you leaned forward, pulling harder than you did the first time. The painting still wouldn’t move. You tried everything, lifting and even trying to turn it, but it wouldn’t move.

Questioning your strength, you attempted to get it off the wall one more time, your feet nearly sliding off the ladder as you quickly grabbed onto the mantle of the fireplace stopping you from toppling backwards. 

“Not very strong, hm?” 

A sense of panic overtook you and you lost your balance, hitting the floor with a loud thud as the floorboards beneath you creaked. You whipped your head around, wondering who said that, whilst coming to the startling realization you weren’t alone.

Maybe someone had been breaking in.

Looking up, you felt your heart stop as you saw a translucent figure floating in the air. You did a double take, looking between the figure and the portrait on the wall while struggling to catch your breath.

It couldn’t be. 

The figure looked down at you, a predatory grin forming on her lips. Her long hair was so pale it appeared to be white and it was draped over her shoulders cascading down her back. The longer you stared at her the more you realized that it was Agatha Harkness.

But that’s impossible. Ghosts weren’t real.

“I…I don’t,” you barely managed to get out, at a loss for words as Agatha let out a loud cackle, the sound bouncing off the walls.

“Not very clever, either,” Agatha mused, tilting her head to the side as she gazed down at you. “I would have thought my rather obvious haunting over the past few weeks would have been enough to make you notice.”

Your head spun as you listened to her talk, and every odd occurrence over the past month started to make sense. 

“You’re less chatty than I thought you’d be,” Agatha observed, floating down until she was inches away from your face. “Although the silence is certainly better than that incessant singing you do in the shower. Ever heard of voice lessons?”

Your eyes widened as you realized she had been spying on you, and your cheeks grew hot at the knowing smirk she gave you. 

Clearing your throat, you managed to stand up, taking a step back to create some distance between you and…the ghost. 

“Is this the part where you send me running so you can keep the house for yourself?” You asked, shocking both yourself and Agatha.

“She makes jokes,” Agatha retorted, raising her hand to tap her index finger across her cheek as she stared at you. “And no, dear, if I wanted you gone I would have sent you away like the others.”

“The others?” You questioned, thinking back to your many conversations with the realtor and vaguely remembering being told you were the first person to have purchased the house.

Agatha appeared to watch the gears turn in your head as she came closer to you, slowly circling you. “There’s a reason no one else ever bought this house. They all wanted to renovate it, or tear it down and build some monochromatic slab. Modern architecture is truly a disgrace.”

She spat, frowning at the memory before looking back at you, an intrigued expression on her face. “But you’re different. I could tell.”

“So you’re a ghost because you want to keep your house intact?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Agatha scoffed, as if that was the craziest question you could have asked her. She motioned to her wispy form. “This was a calculated risk that I plan on reversing. Eventually.”

“I see,” you said, taking in what she said, while also wondering why you were having a conversation with a ghost instead of doing what any sane person would have done. Moved. But there was the doom and gloom that was the current housing market, so maybe you were the sane one. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming up and down your body in a way that left you shivering. “I’m glad you asked, doll.”

You made a mental note to start listening to people more often, especially when they try to tell you a house is haunted.

Agatha Harkness was one of the most intriguing people, or rather ghosts, you had ever met. She was full of contradictions, and you sometimes struggled to decipher if she was lying to you or not. It was clear she wasn’t used to sharing her space, in this ghostly form or not, and had absolutely zero sense of boundaries.

It was also hard to establish ground rules when she could just float through locked doors. 

After a while you got her to stop listening in on your concert showers, although you swore you’d sometimes catch a glimpse of her in the bathroom mirror as you were washing your hair. You didn’t want to explore why the thought of her lurking made you as excited as it did.

She was brilliant, clearly, and you had difficulty wrapping your brain around the existence of not only ghosts, but witches. After your conversation in the library, she instructed you on how to open the passageway behind one of the bookshelves, which revealed a room tucked away from prying eyes. It was filled with countless items you couldn’t begin to recognize, as well as dozens of vials filled with colorful liquids and various animal skulls.

After you nearly fainted from the overwhelming and shocking turn of the day’s events, Agatha casually informed you that she was a witch. A centuries old witch. What led to her current spirit state was unclear, and the light prying you attempted got you nothing but icy cold glares, so you let it go. 

She did seem to have a rather interesting plan to get her corporeal form back, although you understood absolutely none of it no matter how many times she impatiently explained it to you.

You thought it best to leave all magical and potentially illegal activities to her.

Agatha wasn’t kept to the house, a fact you realized one morning a few weeks after her rather blunt introduction. She could come and go as she pleased, and you never questioned where she floated off to, choosing instead to enjoy the welcome peace and quiet. 

She’d come back hours or sometimes days later more annoyed than when she left, so you assumed wherever she was heading didn’t do much to lift her spirits. Pun intended. 

You chose not to linger on why you were beginning to enjoy her presence more than her absence. 

After a while the two of you settled into a rather comfortable routine. You had learned Agatha was able to muster the energy to physically grasp onto objects, hence the rather annoying saga of ‘I thought I left this here but it ended up there’. She enjoyed showing off for you, making a show of stirring your tea or tending to the plants in the greenhouse (it was there you met her familiar Scratchy, the rabbit that was most definitely not a rabbit).  

There was the one time you were getting dressed and your bra was unhooking after you were certain you secured it, but Agatha swore up and down she had nothing to do with it.

You both ignored the fact that you could feel her icy presence behind you as her hands delicately played with your hair. 

It was nice, in a way, sharing the enormous house with someone else. Even if that someone else was a ghost, who was really a witch, who most definitely had murdered countless people. But, there was a different problem that had been brewing since she revealed herself to you.

You were embarrassingly attracted to her. 

It was unclear where the supernatural pull came from, but she soon became the only thing on your mind. You were entranced, completely under her spell, and all you could do was enjoy having her attention. The feeling of her watching you, the almost hungry look in her eyes as she stared at you left you wanting more. 

You couldn’t help but wonder how long she was able to use her hands before fading.

As much as you tried to hide your crush it was becoming increasingly obvious, if the way Agatha leered and smirked at you was any indicator. You had never been good at this sort of thing, and the added complication of pursuing a, possibly temporary, ghost left you reeling at how to make a first move. 

It didn’t help that Agatha was a relentless flirt, saying endless cheeky one liners and innuendos, delighting in the way your cheeks would flush. It sometimes felt like she was testing how far you would let her go before squawking and retreating to the comfort of your bedroom. 

Lately you decided to push her buttons in the only way you felt comfortable trying. Since outwardly flirting wasn’t your strong suit, you decided to take a more subtle approach. You were curious to see if she would take the bait.

After a particularly interesting dinner, which consisted of you eating and Agatha watching you eat, you had left more flustered than before. While Agatha watching you eat was a normal occurrence (she claimed she missed food), this evening was a bit different. You had tried a new recipe she taught you, and couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips at the taste of the vodka sauce.

Agatha’s reaction was different, though. As you were trying to determine if her eyes were darker than they normally appeared, the ghost had moved from her normal spot of hovering over the center of the table to settling beside you. 

Swallowing your bite of pasta you glanced at her, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach from the way her eyes were locked on your lips.

“Can I help you with something?”

Agatha refrained from commenting, silently vanishing from the room in her typical dramatic fashion. Rolling your eyes, you finished your dinner alone, all whilst replaying her reaction to your moan. 

Later that night you got settled in the bathroom, stripping down and turning on your shower. Steam filled the room, you’d always preferred the water to be just below scalding, and once you were satisfied with the temperature you got in. Lathering your body with soap, you peeked out of the shower to see if Agatha would appear. However, if the ghost was in the room, she wasn’t making her presence known. 

You continued on with your shower, the steam starting to fog up the mirrors. It was then the idea hit you. Your hands roamed down, and you spread your legs. Initial hesitation and embarrassment pushed aside in favor of imagining Agatha’s heated gaze once more, you teased yourself. 

Using two fingers you played with your clit, circling the sensitive nub until you let out a soft moan at the sensation. You were already on edge after dinner, and every time you closed your eyes you pictured Agatha staring at you. Leering as she licked her lips. Letting out another moan, you teased your entrance, pretending that Agatha’s fingers were your own as you slowly pushed your index finger in with ease. 

You were soaked, and not from the downpour of scorching water flowing around you. Adding a second finger, you took your time, enjoying the slight stretch as your inner walls fluttered. You couldn’t help but think about how much fuller you would feel with Agatha’s fingers inside you, her lithe digits hitting the spots you had difficulty reaching on your own. 

The name slipped past your lips before you were fully aware of what you were saying.

“Agatha,” you whimpered, the sound of your voice cutting through the downpour of water. 

Closing your eyes, you cupped your right breast with your other hand. Using your thumb and index finger to lightly tug on your nipple, you imagined Agatha standing behind you as her hands roamed your body. It was far too easy of a fantasy to slip into, as you were lost in your pleasure, increasing the pace of your fingers as you fucked yourself.

Nearing your release, you tilted your head back, the warm water cascading down as you let out a louder moan. You were so close, you could nearly taste it; an earth shattering orgasm just out of reach. Chasing your high, you roughly pulled on your left nipple, as Agatha’s name escaped your lips once more, stronger this time.

“Agatha.”

There was a faint, cool sensation behind you and you didn’t have to turn around to know she was there. 

Of course she was. 

Any self consciousness you would have normally felt being exposed was absent, replaced by an overpowering desire for Agatha to have you in whatever way she was capable of. Your fingers slowed as you made your thrusts more intentional, curling them just right and letting out every gasp and whimper. The knowledge Agatha was watching you pushed you closer to letting go. 

But there was still something missing.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as an uncanny feeling washed over you. It was then you heard her voice whispering in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You look so desperate like this, moaning my name like a filthy whore,” Agatha murmured, and you let out a low groan in response, every word she uttered making you clench around your fingers.

“Agatha…”

“Come for me,” Agatha whispered, voice so low you barely heard her.

The reaction was instantaneous, obeying her words as your cunt spasmed around your fingers. Your legs quivered as you rode out your orgasm, feeling the tight coil in your lower stomach send a sweet sensation you felt all throughout your body. Slowing your fingers to a halt, you allowed yourself to revel in the feeling, Agatha’s presence still looming behind you as you came down from the high. 

Pulling your fingers out they were coated in your cum, as the water began to rinse them clean. Agatha moved, hovering in front of you. Her pupils appeared to be blown out as she gazed at you in a way that had you squirming. 

“Suck them clean,” Agatha ordered, a trace of amusement in her tone as she watched you eagerly follow her every command.

The strong effect she had on you was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, to the point where you were unable to think of anything besides the ghost. 

What was she doing to you?

Raising your fingers to your lips, you sucked on them, moaning at the taste of yourself on your tongue. You swore you heard Agatha let out a low growl, but when you raised your head she was gone. Disappearing as quietly as she had earlier that evening.

A wave of disappointment hit you, and you tried to ignore the sting of rejection as your gut churned. Turning the shower off, you grabbed your towel, drying yourself off before wrapping the towel around your body, securing it so it wouldn’t fall.

You should’ve known Agatha wasn’t really interested in you. She was probably bored, trapped in her current spectral state and saw you as an easy distraction.

The house was eerily quiet, save for the creaking of the floorboards as you entered your bedroom, and you were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that it took you a moment to realize that you weren’t alone.

Doing a double take, you found Agatha waiting for you. The ghost hovering near your bed, arrogant smirk painted on her features as she observed you. 

“Took you long enough,” Agatha said, appearing to be lounging on your pillows. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d drowned.”

“Nice to see you’d care if that were to happen,” you deadpanned, shifting uncomfortably as a chill overtook you, and not the type you had grown accustomed to from being in the ghost’s presence.

Agatha raised an eyebrow, but she refrained from responding. As you took a step closer to the bed, you went slack jawed upon seeing what was most definitely not on the bed earlier. A collection of your toys were laying in a neat row, having been sorted by both size and color, and it didn’t take you long to deduce who put them there.

Cackling at your reaction, the sound pleasantly ringing in your ears, Agatha motioned to the toys. 

“Well?”

Gulping, you nodded your head towards your most recent purchase. A purchase that was most definitely not inspired by Agatha’s apparent obsession with purple. The toy in question was one far bigger than what you’d usually use, and a lot thicker as well. It was a deep purple that caught your eye as you were scrolling through the website, and you may have pictured it stretching you out as Agatha cooed filthy praises in your ear. 

“Dirty girl,” Agatha said quietly, gleeful as you joined her on the bed, your towel hitting the floor. Her eyes fixated on your naked form as she instructed you to lay against the pillows. “Work yourself up to take it, dear. I don’t want to break my newest toy just yet.”

You felt yourself beginning to ache again, and the anticipation of what was to come combined with the ravenous glances Agatha kept casting at you ensured you were bound to have another explosive orgasm.

Grabbing one of your smaller toys, a light pink finger vibrator, you watched Agatha settle in beside you. It was just enough feeling her beside you that you could picture what it would be like if she could actually touch you. 

Teasing the toy, you turned it on, the vibrations against your clit nearly causing you to let go far too early. 

Agatha let out a rather guttural noise, as she leaned in closer to you. “So eager. You’re just dripping to be fucked, aren’t you honey?”

Her words only served to motivate you, as you pushed the toy through your folds, quietly crying out as it filled you. This was a toy you used more frequently, and you knew the exact speed and way to make yourself unravel without much effort. 

Agatha appeared to be just as entranced as she whispered absolute filth in your ear, watching you fuck yourself closer to an orgasm with every thrust. It was unsurprising Agatha was so skilled at dirty talk, and you were even less surprised at how every word that left her translucent lips had you more wet than before. Your cunt aching as you neared your climax.

“You’re taking the toy so well,” Agatha encouraged you as you let out another whine. “This pussy was meant to be fucked open. It’ll look so perfect stretched around my cock.”

You couldn’t stop yourself as your vision turned white, hips thrusting as Agatha cooed. You came on the toy, crying out even louder than before. The vibrations quickly became too much as you felt your walls quiver and legs shake from being overstimulated. Your arms felt like jelly but you managed to turn the toy off, leaving it inside you for a few more moments as you enjoyed the afterwave of your orgasm. 

Unfortunately, Agatha was even less patient in the bedroom than she was at any other given moment. You felt something cold grasp onto your hands and with a startled gasp you realized Agatha’s fingers were grabbing onto the toy. With a gentle but quick pull, the toy was out of you and tossed on the floor. You couldn’t help but cry out at being left empty, which made Agatha far too pleased.

You watched with curious eyes as Agatha mustered the strength to be able to grab the original toy you selected, feeling another tingle between your legs at the sight of her holding the large dildo.

“You should feel lucky I’m not in my full corporeal form just yet,” Agatha said, voice low with want as she approached you. 

“I wish you were,” you allowed yourself to say, words becoming more difficult to form from how desperate you were to come again. 

“Be careful what you wish for,” Agatha warned, raising the toy to tease your entrance, gently rubbing it up and down and you squealed as it brushed against your clit. “I’m going to ruin you, pet.”

You were soaked, completely dripping onto your comforter, at this point, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you watched Agatha push the head of the toy inside you. You moaned, feeling yourself being forced to take it as she let out a groan as well.

“What I’d give to feel you clenching around me,” Agatha said, eyes glued to your cunt stretching around the girth. 

Your head thrashed as the pain of being fucked with something larger than you had ever taken began to take over. 

“It’s too much,” you whimpered, hips jerking as Agatha laughed again, forcing you to take more of it. 

“You’ll take whatever I want you to,” Agatha informed you, her words causing your clit to throb. “And I want to watch this pretty pussy be stuffed full of my cock.”

When the toy was into the hilt, Agatha gave you a moment to adjust. You had never felt so full and your hips desperately bucked for more as you writhed from the sensation. The pain beginning to be replaced with a carnal desire for her to fuck you senseless. When Agatha deemed you ready, she moved, her hand fucking the toy into you hard and deep. 

The only noise in the room was the sound of Agatha fucking into your sopping cunt, the wet slaps mixing in with both of your moans. Agatha seemed determined to make you come before she lost the ability to command the toy. 

“I know you can give me one more,” Agatha urged you on, increasing her pace, and you knew you would have difficulty walking in the morning. 

All you could do was cry out in agreement, meeting her for every thrust as you felt your head begin to spin. It was too much, and you weren’t sure how anything else would ever compare. 

“You’re going to come for me,” Agatha breathed out, appearing more desperate than before. You wondered how much of an effect this was able to have on her, given her current state. “And when you do, I want you to scream my name as you soak my cock. Can you do that for me?”

Whimpering as you nodded, Agatha gave one more thrust of her hand as you came for a third time, nearly blacking out in the process as your eyes clamped shut. Your back arched upwards as you squeezed your thighs together, keeping the toy trapped inside you as you felt cum dripping down your thighs. 

It was an otherworldly experience, to the point where you briefly wondered if she had killed you from the pleasure she had just granted you. 

Coming back down to earth, you panted as you collapsed onto the bed. Your body was dripping with sweat and you felt sticky and filthy, but too exhausted to take another shower. It was unclear how long you remained there with the toy nestled deep inside you. Agatha had drifted back up beside you, offering you sweet praises as you enjoyed your afterglow. 

Eventually, the sensation was too much and you managed to muster the strength to gently pull the toy out of you, letting out a satiated gasp when it was removed. Your entire body ached as you made a note to clean the toys, and your bedding, in the morning. 

But now, as sleep became imminent, you tossed your comforter off the bed, wiggling under your top sheet as Agatha gazed at you.

“That was amazing,” you said sleepily, head hitting the pillow as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “I’m sorry I didn’t return the favor.”

Agatha shook her head, an unusually soft smile on her face. “Don’t be. I enjoyed the show.’

Drifting off, you blinked, eyelids feeling heavier with each second you kept them open. 

“Besides,” Agatha mused as you felt yourself succumb to sleep. “You can return the favor once I get my purple back.”

You made another note to actually listen to her plans for getting back into an actual body in the morning. Maybe there was something you could do to speed along the process. For no particular reason, of course.

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Davrin (and also Grey Wardens and griffons) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Harding, Lucanis, Emmrich, Neve, Taash. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later

About Davrin

Family and past:

When he was a kid, Davrin broke his arm when his aravel sailed off a ridge 

Davrin stlll considers himself Dalish and thinks that will never change

Davrin hasn’t seen his clan since he left the forest. He misses the clan (‘it comes and goes’), Dalish food – especially halla milk and butter — and the sense of a common purpose. The last is why he joined the Wardens

Eldrin lives on his own, not together with Davrin’s clan

Just like Bellara, when Davrin was little, he wondered what it was like to have his own house, shop at the market and make friends with outsiders

Davrin isn’t bothered by the idea of fighting the Elven gods because he never really believed in them, but he is worried about how the events of the Veilguard will impact the reputation of the elves

General:

Davrin drinks beer and wine

Davrin hums to himself :)

Davrin can speak some Dwarven 

Davrin doesn’t get the Fade - it’s just too many things at once (the place where spirits live, origin of creation etc.). He has difficulties believing it because it’s something he can’t touch or see 

Davrin would’ve left D’meta’s Crossing’s mayor to die

Davrin dumps griffon waste right into the Fade. No reservations about it whatsoever

Life with the Wardens:

Davrin says he never got used to hearing/sensing darkspawn after joining the Wardens

Davrin knows Ramish (protagonist of the Horrors of Hormkar)

The first group of Wardens Davrin fought with had a special system for fighting ogres. One of them would be “Cheese” (bait), drawing the ogre's attention while the others shot it with arrows (so Davrin can either use a bow or was always the Cheese) 

Monster hunting: 

Davrin can't take most books about monsters seriously, as they are not up to his standards

Fighting monsters is all about the thrill of the chase and tracking a target down rather than the victory

Davrin prefers to fight flesh-and-blood monsters rather than demons

Davrin takes full payment upfront when he hunts monsters for coin

Davrin has many monster trophies (Harding finds them disturbing)

Davrin does taxidermy 

Relationships with other companions: 

(In conversations with Bellara and Neve) Davrin genuinely believes Lucanis/Spite can kill them all 

(In conversation with Harding) Davrin proudly says Lucanis couldn’t take him 

Davrin made a little statue with a skull for a face as a gift for Emmrich’s colleague at his request

(If Emmrich becomes a lich) Davrin offers Emmrich to become a monster-hunting team (“Warden and lich. From darkspawn to demons, we've got you covered.”), thinking they could score a lot of coin

Davrin also offers Neve to set up shop together. “Minrathous Monsters and Murders. If it's claws and fangs stirring up trouble, we've got it covered.” Neve suggests Emmrich (and Manfred, if he's alive) joins them

Davrin and Neve met before the events of the Veilagurd on what Neve calls “The Vol Dorma Job”

About Assan and griffons:

Griffons like shiny things. Assan even once stole one of Bellara’s crystals (but later brought it back) 

(If Sent to Arlathan Forest) Griffons seem to 'remember' patrolling the forest, like it's a genetic thing

(If sent to the Wardens) Griffons listen to Evka

There’s no definite age for when a griffon is ready to carry a rider. It’s more about size and discipline 

(If Rook is in romance with Davrin) Assan gets a little moody/jealous after Davrin and Rook get together

Fade spooks Assan, so he doesn’t fly too far away from the Lighthouse 

Assan eats pastries from the kitchen

Assan doesn't like eating vegetables, but Davrin got him to eat carrots after Taash pointed out he needed more fibre in his diet

Assan misses Manfred when he dies

Assan can dive underwater and eat fish

Assan is curious about Neve’s wisps

About Wardens/misc:

Wardens slip Worry Weed into each other’s ale for kicks (it causes paranoia)

There is no definite timeline of how long a blighted person can survive without the Joining. It all depends on the person

Evka is good at telling spooky stories

Weisshaupt has a world-class library with books over a thousand years old

Wooden carvings can become haunted if blood gets on them

Wardens usually eat cold gruel for meals. Nobody knows what's inside it

[a-chilleus]

Today is Transgender Day of Remembrance, a day to remember and mourn the transgender people who lost their lives to violence in the last year. Here is more info: https://glaad.org/tdor/

I’ve written long posts on facebook for TDoR in the last few years, but today I want to share three things.

1) a poem, dedicated to all of the trans people I know who have struggled so intensely with the impact of transphobia and all of the trans people who are feeling hopeless and terrified. You are not abandoned, you are a loved and valued part of our community, and we will fight for every last person.

2) a list of links to resources for trans people, far from exhaustive but hopefully useful to at least one person who sees this.

3) a short list of places for cis people to donate – I found a few GoFundMe campaigns for trans people who are fundraising for the surgeries they need to be at peace in their bodies or who are trying to escape dangerous or hostile situations, and most of them have very few or no donations at the time that I write this. I donate to trans peoples’ GoFundMes almost every time I hear the news of a trans person’s death, because the only thing I can do in response is try to give back to the trans community in some small way.

It turns out that Tumblr has a limit to how many links you can share per post, so I will put everything in this google doc.

[zayneslady]

summary: it's been a while since the last time you saw him, but you missed him so terribly.

warnings: angst/comfort. Happy endings for the win *sobs* Pt. 2 of these scenarios

characters: Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier x reader (separately)

a/n: I wanted to apologize. I got some comments saying that perhaps I wrote them a bit too ooc and that they wouldn't do something like this, so I was thinking maybe I should step out from writing these; I'm probably not understanding the characters very well. I'm really sorry! I had this one written already, so this is probably going to be the last post I make! Thank you for your support! In only a couple of days you guys were so amazing and loving, I'm super moved and I don't deserve you all at all ❤️

classification: scenarios

tag list: many of you asked me to tag you in the second part, I hope you guys like it! 💕

@biitchyberry @rosaryia @lcheerymotion @mo0nforme

ZAYNE ❄️

It's been four weeks since your argument with Zayne. The first days had been like hell. You had already tasted the honey of a relationship with the person you liked the most and loved the most. You wanted more of him, you needed more. You felt anxious without him, like you had become addicted to his kisses, his gentle touch, and the sweet words he whispered in your ears. You missed him more than you dared to admit.

The days passed slowly, each second seemed to last an eternity. When you got home you felt the emptiness of his presence and you felt like dying, but life continued on, and eventually you got used to being without him. The pain was still present, but more bearable as time kept its course. 

You had stopped frequenting the places you knew he liked for fear of running into him. The dessert shop, the cafe near the hospital, the night stands near the library. You even avoided getting sick so you wouldn't have to go to the hospital. Your life was limited to going to work and coming straight home, with occasional visits to buy groceries. 

You would never have thought that you would have to live a life again without Zayne and only because he didn't know how to separate his friendships from his romantic partner. So smart, but so stupid at the same time. 

You sighed, returning to the present and the food you were making; it was too late when you realized it, but unconsciously you were making one of his favorite dishes. You weren't going to waste the food, so you just carried on trying not to think much about it. 

“Now, where did I put–,” you stopped, surprised by the sudden knocking on your door. You frowned, you were not expecting anyone, but the knocking continued once more and you sighed, turned off the stove. “I'm coming.”

You regretted opening the door. Opening just a crack to see who it was, your heart fluttered in your chest as if there was a small caged bird inside it. Zayne was standing in front of you. He looked ridiculously tired, more than you'd ever seen him. The bags and dark circles under his eyes were deep, his skin did not look radiant and healthy as always and his eyes did not shine like emeralds. 

Your hands were sweating and your insides were churning. "Are you okay?" You asked with a broken voice. Zayne shook his head and he fainted, but with a gasp, you quickly wrapped an arm around his waist and tried to keep him upright. “Zayne! Hey, what's happening?” 

Zayne didn't answer you, and just leaned on you. Not knowing what to do, you dragged him inside and carefully guided him to your room. Once there, you laid him down on your bed, he looked weak. 

“Zayne? Can you hear me? Are you okay?” 

He mumbled your name and your heart raced. “I'm… I am sorry,” he said as he finally passed out. You gasped, but soon heard the soft snores you were so used to. 

Was he that exhausted? And what was he doing at your house? You frowned, fighting back the stinging sensation in your eyes as you tried to hold back some tears. He really always appeared to stir everything inside you. You had already accepted your life without him, but here he was. You sighed heavily, taking off Zayne's shoes and covering him with a blanket.

Your eyes couldn't help but admire him. Even though he was tired, he still looked as handsome as ever. It seemed like a dream, an illusion that would disappear at any moment. You wanted it to happen. You wanted him to disappear, but at the same time, you wanted to take him in your arms and kiss his face. But no, clearing your throat, you grabbed an extra blanket and left the room, closing the door behind you. It was better to let him rest so he could leave as soon as he got up. 

The next morning you woke up to soft steps. Sitting up and whining a little after sleeping on the couch, you saw Zayne coming out from your bedroom. His hair was messy and he was rubbing one of his eyes like a little child, something warm spread across your chest and a smile tried to spread your lips, but you stopped it. He seemed more rested, the bags under his eyes had diminished considerably and his skin looked a little more alive. 

“Zayne.”

He seemed a bit startled as he looked at you with slightly wide eyes. “Hello… I am sorry I fell asleep.” 

You hummed, folding the blanket. “Haven't you been sleeping well?" You didn't want to sound worried, but you were. 

“I haven't… I constantly have nightmares and I've been working over time… a lot more."

“Why?”

“Because I can't stop thinking about you,” he said and despair filled his eyes. “You have no idea how much I've missed you. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I have been working nonstop so I can have my mind occupied, but you're always there, in the back of my head.” 

Don't cry. Don't cry! 

“And what exactly do you want me to do about it, Zayne?” You said coldly, wanting to get over with this. 

Zayne approached you and you couldn't move as he took your hands. “Please, please. Give me another chance. I swear. I swear in my life that I do not have feelings for her. I just… I was just stupid and took you for granted. Please, my love, please.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes and you cried even harder as Zayne grabbed your face. "N-No, don't touch me.”

“Please. How can I show you I truly want you? Do you want me to stop talking to her? I'll do it. I'll do it, so please. Just… please. I can't live without you.” His words sounded sincere.

His eyes were glassy and the pain on his face was evident, but your heart still hurt. How did you know that he really wouldn't leave you as a second option anymore? You couldn't even tell him to stop talking to Miss Hunter, you knew this was just Zayne's fault. 

“Zayne… Zayne you're hurting me so much.”

“I know. I know I am and I am terribly sorry for this. I love you. I truly love you.” 

You also loved him, so much. 

“... If this ever happens again, Zayne… I won't forgive you another time. Remember that.”

His green eyes shone with happiness as he pulled you into a tight hug. You hugged him back, the tips of your fingers tingling as you felt his warmth, the tip of your nose digging into the crook of his neck, you breathed deeply, enjoying his scent. 

“You're on trial, Zayne.”

Zayne chuckled and he nodded. “Yes. You won't regret me, I promise you.”

RAFAYEL 🐠

Life was boring without him. He was the spark and the spice in your days. With him, every day seemed like a small adventure, but now that you no longer saw him, the days seemed dark and lifeless. You didn't even remember how much time had passed since that day. One week? Three days? Two months? You weren't sure and, honestly, you tried not to think about it too much because, even though you missed him, the pang of pain in your heart almost made you gasp for air every single time you recalled every moment with him. It was almost as if his bodyguard had also been there, on every date with Rafayel, for all of your conversations were about her. 

He was full of praise for her. He named each of her virtues and laughed affectionately at her defects. He didn't accept anyone claiming that they were better than her or stronger, because his precious bodyguard was the strongest and the bestest. Just thinking about it made you feel tears filling your eyes. You didn't want to remember any of it, but as you held your phone with your thumb hovering over the dial button, you couldn't stop thinking about how miserable Rafayel made you feel, even when he also made you feel like the most loved person in the world. 

When he didn't have his mouth full of his wonderful bodyguard, Rafayel showered you with affection. His kisses, his hugs, and his caresses all felt full of love and tenderness. His beautiful eyes looked at you sweetly, as if you were the most precious thing that ever existed on earth. He liked to tease you and make you laugh and he always said that you were like a muse for all his paintings: The sparkle in your eyes, the color of your hair, the texture of your skin, the curves of your body, everything was inspiration.

How could he be so cruel and loving all at the same time? Poor bodyguard, you even didn't like her although she hadn't done anything wrong, as far as you knew. 

Sighing, you finally tapped on the green button and your heart raced faster and faster at every beep coming from the other side of the line. Would he answer you? Was he… with her? Was he busy with one of his paintings? What if- 

His voice calling your name surprised you, making you jump. “I’m here! Hi!” he sounded out of breath and your cheeks blushed. “Hmm, h-how are you d-doing?” 

“Rafayel…,” you took a deep breath. “I… have some clothes at your place. Could I stop by later to get them?” 

“YES! I… I mean… yes. I'll- I'll be here all day. You can stop by at any time you want.”

“... Right. Then, see you there, Rafayel.” 

You let out a long sigh after hanging up. You had forgotten how wonderful his voice was and the way he pronounced your name. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You were going to see him, you were really going to come again, but you shouldn't be excited. What if he and his bodyguard were dating? The thought made your stomach twist and you decided it was best to leave immediately. The quicker you finish this, the better. 

As always, the door was open, but you didn't immediately enter, your hands were shaking and your heart was racing against your ribcage. You didn't want to see him.

Taking a deep breath, you gently pushed the door open and you were greeted with that aroma that you had missed so much. The smell of acrylic paint, the sea and Rafayel's scent. You couldn't help but take a long breath- this exquisite smell felt like home. Your eyes watered a little, but you tried to stay calm as you walked deeper into the spacious house.

“R-Rafayel? Are you here? "You heard a gasp from the room and in a second, Rafayel appeared in front of you. Ah, he looked as wonderful and beautiful as always. His gorgeous eyes were wide, looking you up and down as his mouth stretched into a shy smile. You wanted to hug him. “The door… was open so I just- I'm sorry.”

“No! That's okay! I… I left it open for you!” 

You nodded. “I see… do you mind if I just…”

“No, go ahead, please.” You excuse yourself as you made your way to his room, as you passed by him you felt your legs tremble and you gasped in surprise when he suddenly took your hand.

“Rafayel, what-

“Please, forgive me,” he begged, his eyebrows furrowed in a painful expression. “I was absolutely wrong, you were so right. I was stupid and careless and hurt you so badly.”

“Rafayel… I just came for my clothing, let me g-

“Please!” He hugged you and you went stiff. “Please, please,” he sobbed in your ear. 

“Are you crying?” 

He nodded. “I can't live another second without you. I can't paint anymore. I feel like a piece of me has been taken away, I live half and barely. I really, really do not have feelings for my bodyguard. You're the only one I can think about.”

“Then why- 

“I just… I was just stupid, I didn't mean anything to hurt you, I swear! When I said I missed her, what I wanted to say is that I wanted to train with her, I would never make you train, that's too dangerous,” he started to explain in a rush. “When I told you about the candies, it's because she gave me some amazing chocolate I wanted to gift you and then-

“Rafayel-

“Please. Just this once, I swear,” he said, finally showing his reddened face, tears streaming down his face. You gulped, reaching up to clean his tears away and he whined. “I wasn't there to wipe your tears, I am so sorry.” 

That made you burst into tears. That's right, you really wanted him to wipe your tears. He gently cupped your cheeks and his thumbs brushed against your cheeks, catching all of those tears falling from your pretty eyes. 

“You can break up with me if I do something like that again! But please… just this once. I love you so much. I really do.” 

You looked at him, His eyes were still wet and some tears were still falling down his cheeks. Maybe…

“Just this once, Rafayel… I won't forgive anything like this ever again.” He beamed and leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss, but you covered his mouth, frowning slightly. “I'm still mad at you.”

He blinked and gently smiled behind your hand before taking it in his. “Of course, I'll prove myself to you, beautiful creation.” 

XAVIER ⭐

You couldn't sleep. It's been two weeks since you last slept properly. Two weeks ago you were in Xavier's arms and he held you lovingly, whispering words of comfort in your ears. You weren't sure why, but being around Xavier always made you feel relaxed, a little sleepy, but never bored. You loved spending lazy times with him, taking naps and frolicking in bed, giggling like fools and giving each other soft, tender kisses. 

With his warmth and love it was not difficult to fall asleep at night, he always wanted to sleep so that tranquility that emanated from him was enough to relax you and make you sleep throughout the whole night. In the mornings you felt rejuvenated and full of life and seeing his sleepy smile was like living in a dream. 

You felt your bottom lip quiver into a pout. You missed him too much. You never thought he would behave that way. Had you never really been important to him? If he wanted to be with his partner so much, why had he even agreed to go out with you in the first place? 

“Agh! I hate you Xavier!” You cried, banging your fists against the table in your kitchen. “Why did you let me fall in love with you?” Maybe you really had gone crazy, talking to the table like that. 

There was no time for this. It was almost dark and you still needed to go buy some groceries for your dinner. You struggled out of your house, so tired and dragging your feet. You wanted to sleep... with Xavier. You wanted to feel his warmth. But... what if he now wrapped his partner in his arms? Your cheeks turned red and, trying to avoid thinking about it, you hurried to catch the bus. 

You found a seat near the door and next to a young man, there weren't as many people as you imagined and as the bus started to go you felt your eyes heavy. Maybe... you could sleep for a few minutes? The store wasn't far away, so just a few minutes... just a couple of minutes… 

You heard your name being called between clouds. From far away. Over and over and over. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. 

“Hmm?” You opened your eyes and gasped, How long had it been?! Where were you? And... why was your head...? Had you fallen asleep on someone's shoulder?! "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" You said, raising your head only to find that the young man next to you... "Xavier?!" 

The hunter blinked, his eyes avoided yours for a second before looking directly at you and nodding a small greeting. Had he been there next to you the whole time? You could barely notice what was happening around you with how tired you were, but, strangely, you felt very good. It seemed like he really was the cure for all your ills. You chuckled softly, shaking your head. Xavier looked at you confused, tilting his head to the side like a little bird. 

“I'm sorry, Xavier. I didn't know you were there,” you jumped, “but wait, where are we?!” Checking outside the window, you could tell you were far away from the store now. 

“We're almost at my place,” he said gently and the alarms in your head set off. His partner... didn't she live in the apartment below?! Oh no. Before, you had no problem staying at Xavier's house, but... if they were really in a relationship…

“I gotta go,” you said, seeing the next bus station. It was already dark outside.

“Where are you going?” Xavier asked and you frowned.

“What do you mean? Back home. I only wanted to go to the store, but I fell asleep as you could see… Now it's even dark. Thankfully it's not raining,” you were babbling to yourself as you waited to arrive at the next stop, when you finally did, you got up. “Sorry about that, Xavier. Goodnight.” 

"Now... The next bus…," you mumbled checking the bus's schedule. "10 minutes? Lucky~"

“I'll go with you.” 

You couldn't help but squeal and jump when you heard his voice right behind you. Turning around, you saw him standing there, as tall as he was and as bright as the stars. 

“I'll take you home. It's dark. Something could happen.”

You rolled your eyes. "What could happen, I'm only going home.” 

“Some witnesses have seen wanderers in the area. I can't let you go alone." 

You sat on the bench, arms crossed, Xavier sitting next to you. "Ah, that's true. I'm not strong like your... Forget it." Your cheeks turned red. Very well! Keep opening your big mouth! Xavier didn't say anything, but you could feel his gaze on you and the blush on your cheeks traveled to the tips of your ears. 

Silence reigned between you. You could feel him, his warmth, he was so close to you, you could reach out and touch his knee. Your eyes felt heavy, you wanted to hug him. 

“I am sorry,” he suddenly said and you thought you imagined it but then he repeated it. “I am sorry for what I said the other day.” You turned to look at him and flinched when he saw his bright eyes looking sad and red. “I don't know what I was thinking. Talking like that in front of my girlfriend. Acting like I didn't want to have been there with you, but you're the only person I want close to me. I don't like nor have feelings for my coworker, I only want and need you.” 

He gently wiped a tear from your rosy cheek, his touch was electrifying. 

“You haven't been sleeping well.” You didn't answer, but he continued. “I haven't been able to sleep either. I keep recalling that day and seeing your crying face, I can't stand it… please forgive me.” 

He took your hands and you finally looked up at him, your eyes widening as you saw a small tear fall down his cheek. 

“I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I still beg you, I beg you to give me another chance. I promise I'll do better. Something like this will never happen again. I was an idiot." 

You frowned, “you were an idiot. Do you have any idea how you made me feel? It's hard to believe you love me.” 

He nodded, listening to you carefully. “I know it's hard to believe, but please let me prove it to you, let me show you how much I love you, please. I can't be without you anymore, my star. I need you, otherwise I'll go crazy. Please.” 

You sobbed and Xavier gently pulled you close to him. Wrapping you between his warm arms. You tried to pull away, but he didn't let you and soon you melted in his embrace, crying into his work clothes. 

“Please, give me another chance.” 

You nodded softly. Just one more chance. “There's not gonna be a second time,” you warned between sobs and he chuckled, kissing the top of your head. 

“I won't need them. I will treasure you as the most valuable thing that you are. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” 

[malcriada]

Fundraiser close to finishing!

i am really grateful for the support my friends Alaa & Bilal have received after the last post i made about their situation.

however, they are not safe yet and still in need of support. the situation in Gaza remains dangerous, with no real safe area to go to and sky-high prices for the most basic necessities like food and water. everything costs a lot of money in Gaza: had to leave your tent behind after displacement and need a new one? say goodbye to $1000 at least! need some gas? $100! have to find a new space to stay? pay up! not to mention the ever rising prices for food and drinking water.

this is where you come in. i know with your support, Alaa & Bilal can live to see yet another day and reach their goal. THEY ARE ABOUT $1000 AWAY FROM REACHING IT. WE CAN MAKE THIS HAPPEN FOR THEM! $ 23.947 / $ 25.000 raised so far!

my friends are terrified and exhausted beyond belief and it breaks my heart to see them like this. it would offer them some hope and relief to know their campaign goal has been reached! verified on @/nabulsi's and @/el-shab-hussein's list of vetted fundraisers here (#95, line 99)

tagging people under the cut, if you'd like to be removed please send me a message! no hard feelings <3

@timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako

@feluka @fiqrr @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria

@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @khanger @evillesbianvillain @neechees

@mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @jezior0 @7bitter @tortiefrancis

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @tododeku-or-bust

@aristotels @komsomolka @xinakwans @heritageposts @nibeul

@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @lonniemachin @dykesbat

@watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @yugiohz

@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @northgazaupdates2

@vakarians-babe @wayneradiotv @paper-mario-wiki @rthko @decolonize-solidarity

[latenightdaydreams]

I have an idea that Konig was kicked out of his old apartment because his last deployment was last for years and he decided to find another place to rent a share apartment. When he opened his new apartment's door to move in, reader accidently greeted him with the biggest squirt in his life that he's ever seen =)))) (like reader didn't know he'd move in that day)

I love it, a great way to start off a new lease😈

Roommates (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

Part 2 Part 3

>cw: fem/afab, masturbation

1.5k word count

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Coming back after four years of being deployed, he was greeted with a huge pile of mail. Plopping his body in his desk chair, he began to look for a new place to live. That when he finds you listing. Pets are okay, no smoking, and only one other roommate. The apartment was in a nice area too. Without going to look at the place, König messaged the tenant to apply for the available room.

When you posted the ad, you didn’t add that you’re a woman. You didn’t want people applying just to be creeps or to get harassed. When König’s application comes in, you think it sounds too good to be true. Older man, no pets, doesn’t smoke, is military so he would be deployed for months at a time, maybe years, and willing to divide the rent 40/60, him covering the larger half, since he said he is paid well. It was an incentive König was hoping would help inspire you and make you pick him since the spot was perfect for what he needs.

Flipping back and forth between König’s application and this woman your age, you feel torn. The woman would make a fun roommate, but she is a struggling artist and you don’t want to be put in a situation where you’re paying full rent WITH a roommate.

König on the other hand, while he is a man, will be gone most of the time and is willing to pay more meaning you’d be able to set aside money and finally save some.  It’s a selfish reason, but times are hard right now.

You send back a response message to König to tell him that he’s got the room. You send him the move-in date and where to pick up the key. Instantly you get a message back saying he will be about a week late to move in but will send you the money now. You phone chimes and you see your Venmo with his portion of the rent. Feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, you go back to cleaning up the apartment.

Two weeks pass and König gets back from his mission a week earlier than expected. He walks past the boxes of his belongings stacked along the wall of his office. His shoulders slumped over, exhausted from all of his recent travels. He sits at his desk, pulling off his sniper hood and opens up the email with all of the information about his new living situation. Leaning back, he lets out a deep sigh and looks at the time. Figuring it was too late he decided to wait until tomorrow to move in.

The next morning you wake up a little after 9am and make yourself breakfast. You check your emails to see if there has been any word from König. Nothing. After you eat breakfast you sit on the living room couch, wasting time. Since today is your day off you planned on getting some chores done, but you have other things on your mind.

Quickly, you stand from the couch and go to your room. Opening up your underwear drawer you grab a black bag of goodies. You open it up and pull out your favorite silicon toy before going to the kitchen sink to wash. The hot guy from your commute to work everyday comes to mind as you begin to daydream about him naked, kissing you, touching you, fucking you...

Drying off your dildo and walking back to the living room couch, you pull the throw blanket from the back of your couch and lay it down as a makeshift towel. You pull down your pants and underwear before laying back on the couch. Your fingers go to gently rub your clit while you close your eyes and begin to day dream.

Him kissing your neck lightly as his fingers circle your clit, leg twitching as you moan to him. His fingers slowly inching lower and pushing into your tight little cunt. His fingers pumping in and out quickly as he moves his lips to yours; his mouth devouring your moans. His other hand moves to your breast and begins to lightly tug at your nipple.

You open your eyes for a second and remove your fingers from your cunt and rub your arousal on the blanket underneath you. Moving your hand from your breast, you reach over and grab your dildo from the coffee table. You move yourself so you can get more comfortable, rubbing your dildo over your wet folds. Letting out a sigh, you lean back and close your eyes again.

His naked body looms over you as he rubs his erection over your wet little pussy. His hand reaches back out and begins to rub your nipple.

“You ready y/n?”

You let out a soft yes before he shoves his cock inside of you slowly, inch by inch. He begins to thrust into you quickly, the sound of your loud moans filling the room. His hand moving off of your breast so he can fuck you quicker. You reach out gripping the bedsheets and pulling them as your legs begin to tremble from his cock hitting your g-spot over and over…

König decided to only grab his duffle bag full of clothes and a few boxes for his first trip. He will be off the next few days so he has time to go back and grab his stuff, take his time moving in. He walks out to his SUV and loads up the trunk with five boxes. Sitting down, he puts the address into his GPS and begins to take off.

The building was nice, there was a park nearby and it was 40 minutes from base. That gave him a sense of privacy. He parks his SUV at the front, pulls his sniper hood off, and walks inside to go to the building manager. He welcomes König and hands him the key to the apartment that you left for him two weeks ago.

“Danke.” König takes the key and begins to walk back to his SUV to grab two boxes.

Apartment 304. König walks up the stairs and gets to his floor. He looks around the hall, doors with cute welcoming mats and small seasonal decorations giving the complex a nice homely vibe.

Your eyes still closed and hand behind your head holding on to the couch cushion as your legs are spread wide open. Your 7-inch dildo moving quickly in and out of you as you moan out, but quietly enough that the neighbors can’t hear. One of your feet moves to the coffee table to spread your legs open even more, back arching as you get close to release.

König gets to the front door, holding his boxes in one arm as he opens the front door. He hears your moans and the sound of the dildo in your pussy before you begin to squirt. His eyes glued to your pussy as he watches the impressive stream leaving you. His jaw drops and he accidently drops one of the boxes. He looks down at the box and then back up at you to see you open your eyes and look at him.

You freeze as you realize your door is open and a giant man is just standing there. You assume it’s König, but he wasn’t supposed to be here for another week. You feel as if your heart is going to explode. Your face is hot with embarrassment. Before anyone can say anything, you pull your dildo out, get up and run to the bedroom.

König stands there looking at the wet spot on the blanket and the wet mess on the floor. Your pants and underwear tossed onto the other end of the couch. He takes a deep breath and picks up the box on the ground before walking further into the apartment. He closes the door behind him and just stands there awkwardly with a boner.

You’re in your room dying of embarrassment. You don’t know what to do, you can’t face him now. Not after that. You put on underwear and pants to open your door and yell out.

“Your bedroom is the last room down the hall to the left!” Thankfully on the other side of the apartment from yours.

“Okay, thank you!” He yells back.

He walks towards his room, his eyes lingering on the mess you left behind for a moment. Finally, he makes it to his bedroom door. He opens it to see a queen size bed and two dressers. The window is letting in the bright sun. He drops his boxes on the floor and sits on the bed, looking around the room for a while.

He can’t stop replaying the scene of you squirting over and over in his mind. His hand wandered to his boner instinctively. You’re his new roommate, he doesn’t want to start the relationship off by jerking off to you. Yet, he can’t seem to stop himself as he unzips his pants and pulls them down enough to release his cock. He closes his eyes and replays your sounds and the moment over and over as he strokes his cock.

Part 2 Part 3